And Wake Me With The Morning Light
by General Schemer
Summary: Hermione thought she had it all under control. Right up to the point where she lost all memory of a previous life. Was she - could she be really engaged to a man she had despised for most of her life? And what happened with her and Ron. With no knowledge of what her life had become - she was forced to rely on others. But could she trust them to tell her the truth?
1. Hermione

**Summary:** A Romantic Drama, which will most likely be Novella length - but it depends on the readers.

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling, and this story and it's original characters are mine. Contact before reproduction.

**Pairing: **Draco/Hermione

**Rating:** T, unless advised otherwise.

**A/N: **This story is a loose sequel to 'The Long Tunnel to Azkaban', but reading the previous story is not required and the writing is notably different I think. As promised this first chapter is included at the end of 'Tunnel to Azkaban' for all those that followed. Check my tumblr site (address in profile) for updates.

In response to the poll question: In 'The Long Tunnel to Azkaban', how long will Draco and Hermione last as a couple? The results were a little surprising. The overwhelming 1st choice at 58% was 'Happily ever after', but the clear number two choice at 29% was the shortest selection of 'two days'. Go figure.

If it turns out that you like this story, please tell your friends about it. Overall - reader feedback will determine the length.

thanks. G.S.

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

'What matters in life is not what happens to you - but what you remember, and how you remember it.'

- Gabriel García Márquez

**1. Hermione**

Hermione had decided that no matter how many books she read, they never helped with problems regarding the opposite sex. Ginny once said this was poetic justice, but Hermione couldn't see the justice in it anywhere. She had always known that Draco Malfoy didn't check all the right boxes, but she'd plunged headlong into a relationship with the wizard nonetheless. Deciding not to sweat it and taking life one day at a time, she'd consoled herself that they were only dating. But then a most peculiar thing happened; the blonde haired hunk had asked her hand in marriage, and in spite of all the whistles going off in her head she found the most unbelievable words coming out of her mouth... _Yes_.

But now, with her romantic response beginning to worry her, Hermione thought it prudent to take a chance on professional help. She had made an appointment to see a practitioner of divination. Madam Vail was considered a talented pythoness and an expert in matters of love and marriage. Draco had kept her a few minutes extra this morning and that, along with the bumpy cobblestones along Diagon Alley, was not helping her keep her nine o'clock appointment.

After pausing to greet a few of the early shoppers, Hermione was nearing the alley entrance to Madam Vail's salon. Her small studio was nestled behind the stationary shoppe. Tentatively, Hermione stepped up several stone steps to the black enameled door and reached for a silver door knocker in the shape of a crescent moon. After one more deep breath she rapped on the door several times.

After a few moments, an oily smooth latch clicked inside and the door cracked open. Quite below waist level stood a house-elf with one hand on the door defensively and the other on the frame. He was wearing a midnight blue pillowcase decorated with white stars. On his head was a pointed wizard's hat in matching midnight blue.

"Can I help you?" he croaked.

"I have an appointment to see Madam Vail – at nine o'clock," Hermione replied, in a fragile voice.

"Very well – follow me please," the elf instructed and opened the door wide and backed away from the frame. He led Hermione into a small sitting room with a couch and two padded chairs, all circling a dark, mahogany looking, coffee table. There was a sliver dish of teacakes on the table.

"Would you like coffee or tea, Madam?"

"Ah... coffee please," she replied, and the house-elf nodded obsequiously and disappeared. She had hoped to see Madam Vail right away, but knew little of the habits of divinationists. The only other one she had ever known was Sybill Trelawney. Unfortunately thoughts of Professor Trelawney were troubling and made Hermione feel uneasy. The walls of the sitting room were covered with a satiny finish of silver-grey and cluttered with framed pictures. The pictures all appeared to depict divinationists of the recent and long past. Some were peering deeply into crystal balls and others dressed in such a fashion as to clearly indicate their occupation. The costumed elf returned, carefully wielding a large metal serving tray with coffee, cups, sugar, and cream.

"Do you take cream and sugar Miss?" he asked as he poured her a cup.

Hermione nodded. "Yes please."

The house-elf unrolled a serviette and produced two teaspoons. With delicate care and precision he spooned a rounded teaspoon of sugar into her cup and added cream from a small pitcher. Leaving both within Hermione's reach, he left the room.

Many minutes and two cups of coffee later, Hermione fidgeted in her chair. She had carefully examined all the pictures and wondered if any of the subjects were relation to Madam Vail. Since she had never met the witch, she could only guess. Almost ready to ask the house-elf if there was a problem, she heard soft footfalls entering the room.

Madam Vail appeared to float across the room with small footsteps. A tall witch with longish features, she had a pretty face and raven black hair adorned with ribbon-wide streaks of platinum. She was wearing layers of black chiffon and appeared much younger than Hermione had imagined. She had a warm smile that was totally infectious.

"Good morning Hermione," she said and extended her hand.

"Good morning," echoed Hermione, briefly taking the witch's hand.

"I'm so late – please forgive me."

Hermione smiled but said nothing. Madam Vail waved toward the chair, and Hermione returned to her seat. She moved gracefully toward the couch, opposite Hermione.

"Tell me, how's Kingsley? Haven't seen him in an age."

"Oh, very good I suppose. I don't see him too much myself these days," Hermione replied. "Not since I've moved."

"Moved? _You're_ still with the Ministry?"

"Oh yes – just changed departments," she quickly added.

Madam Vail smiled with relief. It was a warm smile; an all over smile that included her eyes. It was as if she could see the good in you and reveled at the sight of of it.

"How do you like your new job?" she asked. Hermione was a little surprised by the small talk.

"Well, it's still very new, but I'm sure I'll enjoy it as I get to work for the benefit of magical animals."

"That sounds wonderful Hermione," she said and reached for a cup and then the tea. Only when she had poured a cup and sampled it did she look up to resume the conversation.

"Well, it doesn't sound like you have any employment issues. Tell me a little about the rest of your life."

"The rest of my life?"

"Yes, are you seeing someone? Is there someone special?" she asked with inviting eyes.

"Yes – very much," Hermione answered flatly.

"Are you seeing a lot of this person or is this..."

"Yes, I've been seeing a wizard for some time," Hermione injected. "And he's recently asked me to marry him."

"Oh, well that's great to hear – you see I've had clients lately where the love affair is rather one sided. Particularly troublesome when dealing with the future – but back to you. Did you accept his offer?"

"Yes."

"I see – so you're engaged then. To whom my dear?"

Hermione paused and replied in a fragile voice.

"Draco Malfoy."

Madam Vail paused, ever so casually. She swallowed as if the news wouldn't go down.

"The Malfoy's from _Wiltshire_?"

"Yes... that's the ones."

"I see," Madam Vail replied, successfully squelching any reaction. "Tell me – how's that going, you and Draco?"

"Interesting," she replied and they both laughed.

Madam Vail made another show of sipping tea for a few moments and then set the cup softly back on the table.

"So Hermione, how did you two... find one another? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Of course not. It was last summer really. Draco was sentenced to a public service duty for his uh... oh, lets just say for being Draco. To make a long story short, the person assigned to be his case officer turned up ill. I had known Draco from Hogwarts of course, but we had always been bitter of enemies. When Kingsley asked me to fill in for Cynthia I made him swear it would only be temporary."

Madam Vail smiled as if she already knew where the story was going.

"We met every two weeks to review Draco's performance. We started in my office, which was time consuming and then we changed the meeting to over lunch – in the Ministry Canteen, of course."

"Of course," echoed the divinationist.

Hermione paused to get more coffee. After she refilled and had a short sip, she resumed the story.

"Draco complained about the food in the Canteen," she said and blushed slightly. "So reluctantly, I agreed to go out for lunch."

Hermione addressed her coffee again.

"After a while, I began to realize that he was interesting, amusing, a bit unpredictable, and daring. But most of all, he could be human, and that was something I'd never expected," she concluded and slapped her knees with her palms. "Draco wanted to date. I still thought it would be a bad idea, but he was very persistent."

"That an very interesting story Hermione. It's curious but it often happens that when we discover the very core of someone, and it's not what we thought, it makes us feel closer to them."

"Yes I suppose that's true," Hermione agreed and placed her forefinger to her temple to extract a reluctant thought. "But we're not a match made from heaven.

"Few if any ever are Hermione."

Hermione nodded.

"Of course, but I have some troubling thoughts and quite a few concerns."

"What are they dear?"

"We're not very alike, Draco and me. We don't have similar interests and concerns. Our values are different on so many levels. It's our background I think. You see Draco was brought up with little to no practical concerns. Just the other morning, I found a favorite tea towel in the dustbin. One given to me by my mother many years ago when I was young. You see in those days, I was always looking for a way to help, so Mum gave me a colorful tea towel to dry the dishes she was washing. I was so short, I had to stand on a stool to reach the sink."

Madam Vail nodded and smiled as if she could visualize the scene.

"Well, this simple act became a mother-daughter bonding thing really. I continued to help mum with the dishes until she and dad moved to Australia, and I had often thought, if I could be blessed with a daughter I would pass it along."

Hermione paused again to reach for the coffee.

"Well," she continued. "This is what I explained to Draco the first time he threw it in the dustbin. I thought he would understand, but...when he did again I knew."

"You knew?" Madam Vail repeated.

"Yes. I knew Draco didn't understand and never would. He could never see how a old and threadbare towel could have any value when a new one would do just as well. It's just the way he was brought up."

"I see," Madam Vail replied and reached for her tea. "Have you spoken to Draco about this?"

"After the first time, yes, but not again because it's not a big thing," she said, shaking her head. "It's just an example really. I'm a soul consumed with practical concerns while Draco has very few."

Hermione cleared her throat and continued. "His mother doesn't approve of our relationship on any level. She's threatened to cut him off. Draco really needs to find work, but so far he hasn't found any and doesn't appear to be too concerned about it. This make me worried for our future. I mean – I wonder sometimes if we have one."

Madam Vail wrinkled her nose. "I see," she replied and smoothed tiny wrinkles from the layers of chiffon in her lap. "It sounds like you have some legitimate concerns. Do you request a seeing?"

"Yes, I think so," Hermione replied with a deep nod.

"Very good Hermione – just let me tell you this before we move to the seeing room. At first thought, many would assume that looking into their own future would be a grand thing. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes we're much better off discovering life as it comes to us. Do you understand the point I'm trying to make?"

"Yes," replied Hermione. "I think I do, but I simply must know this marriage has a chance."

"I understand. Come this way please," spoke Madam Vail, and she gently rose to escort Hermione to the seeing room.

The 'seeing' room was just down a small corridor from the parlor. The room was dark as a tomb and Madam Vail entered first. With a wave of her hand and a short incantation that Hermione couldn't make out, several large silver candelabras and sconces scattered about the room came to life with candlelight. The room was finished in a black satin-like cover and contained a single table and two chairs.

Madam Vail directed Hermione to the table. It was a small table just big enough for two. It had a plush black cover and sat directly under a crystal chandelier. The chandelier looked to be on fire as every facet directed light from the many candles in the room. In the middle of the table was a large metallic dish several feet in diameter. The dish was reflective like chromium and filled with water or some other clear liquid.

From somewhere beneath the layers of chiffon, Madam Vail produced a small pair of silver scissors.

"If you could cut a few short strands of your hair, my dear?"

Hermione nodded and cut a inch of hair from a conveniently hanging strand. Holding the strand by her thumb and forefinger, she gently gave the hair to Madam Vail. The pythoness sprinkled the hair into the large metallic dish and reached again into her clothing to produce a small decorative vial with a glass stopper. Madam Vail unstoppered the vial and poured it's sapphire blue contents into the chromium disk. The blue liquid darted through eddies and currents as if uncomfortable in it's new environment then disappeared into a small mist that gently rose from the water's surface and drifted away.

Madam Vail's grey eyes glinted quicksilver as she peered deeply into the water, far below the focus level of the surface. She bent down and labored over the surface for quite some time, occasionally waving her hand over the water to coax a vision to appear. Hermione sat there helplessly, trying to help but not knowing how. Finally with one dismissive wave, Madam Vail sat straight up and exhaled deeply.

"I'm afraid Hermione," she said, rolling over the words slowly, "I can't see a thing. It's quite unusual, but it happens."

"Oh." Was all Hermione could muster. After all of that, she was no more better off than when the left her flat this morning.

"I won't charge you for this session," Madam Vail announced. "If things are troubling you in a few weeks from now, please feel free to come back."

"Thank you – I will."

"Hermione let me ask you a simple question?"

"Sure."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes. I do."

"Good. That's a good place to start. Remember this: there are no perfect people. Only those perfect for one another."

‡‡‡‡‡

Returning to work, Hermione went through the motions for the remainder of the day, but she could never get the visit with Madam Vail out of her mind. Did the divinationist really fail to see her future, or was it so bad she couldn't reveal it? As Hermione often did when things were troubling her, or she needed time to think, or just veg out for a while, she would take the train home from work. It was a time between work and fixing dinner for Draco that was entirely her own. For that reason and for that reason alone, it was special.

Changing into a comfortable pair of jeans and throwing on a loose fitting Tee, Hermione glanced through the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_ before starting dinner. She was almost done reading the paper and there was still no signs of Draco. She quickly warmed up soup and made sandwiches from leftover roast beef. She filled a bowl with a new bag of crisps and wondered where the hell her fiance had gotten off to.

Before the thought left her head, she heard a key in the door (something they both did in case neighbors were watching) and the latch turning obediently. As nonchalant as always, Draco entered and headed toward the couch.

"What's cooking love?" he asked with an impish grin and as he plopped down on the couch. He never changed into casual at the end of the day. Apparently it was a Malfoy thing that made little to sense to her.

"I was about to give up on you."

It was Draco's turn not to reply, and he grabbed up the paper and plopped down on the couch. This behavior was a little out of protocol. Normally when Hermione had food on the table he would saunter by and give her a kiss – sometimes casual and sometimes playfully passionate.

"Are you eating?" she asked with a touch of frustration. "I expected you a while ago."

"Yeah, give me a minute. Not hungry yet," he replied without looking up from the paper.

"All right. How was your day?" she pressed on and guessed by his mannerisms it was probably a disappointing one.

"Ah, more of the same really. No one's hiring – that's for sure."

"I wish we could find you something at the Ministry," Hermione added while blowing on a spoonful of hot soup.

"Are you kidding? A Malfoy at the Ministry. That'll be the day."

"Don't see why not – you're semi-respectable now," she teased.

"Now that I'm with you?" he replied and dropped the paper.

"Yeah, that's right," she added, playfully.

Draco pulled himself up from the couch and drifted into the kitchen. His eyes were a little pink. He plopped down at the table and reached for a handful of crisps. He slowly ate through the pile of crisps and Hermione suspected he'd found a pub on the way home..

"I tried to ring you today – for lunch," he finally managed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Thought I'd ask you for lunch, but they said you were out."

Hermione quickly stuffed a bite of sandwich into her mouth. Draco looked up to see why she didn't answer.

"Well – were you out," he persisted.

Hermione nodded while chewing.

"I'm sorry I missed you," she said with food still in her mouth.

Draco hung on the words, obviously wanting more.

"Okay, sure. Would you mind if I asked where you were?"

Hermione started to reach for another bite of sandwich but then put down the food. They looked at one another for a moment or two that seemed much longer.

"No, you can ask?"

Draco returned a look of animated frustration.

"Never mind," he said and started to rise.

"I went to visit Madam Vail – in Diagon Alley."

Draco settled back down in his chair.

"Madam Vail – who's she?"

"A divinationist."

"A seer? You went to see a seer?"

"Yes."

"Why Hermione?"

Hermione paused on the question. As Draco's voice began to rise she realized he'd found a pub on the way home.

"For us – of course."

"Why do we need a divinationist?" he asked, shaking his head.

"I just thought – she might be able to help us. I'm sorry if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me – I just don't understand it."

"I know Draco. I know you don't, and that's part of why I went."

Again Draco shook his head and reflected bewilderment.

"What _are_ _you_ talking about?"

"We're so unalike in so many ways Draco. I was just hoping she could help."

"We're unalike?"

"Yes – we are," she pleaded.

"Hermione, I have a question. I hate to – but I need to ask."

She bit her lip and braced for the question.

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course Draco."

He looked at her through squinted eyes.

"Somehow I'm having trouble with that – that answer."

"I love you – _okay_?"

At this she jumped up and went to the blonde wizard. She pulled his head into her bosom and looked him in the eyes.

"My love for you is not your problem Draco."

Draco stiffened up and then leaned back casually.

"Okay, what's my problem?"

"Where do I begin? Your mum is about to cut you off if you go through with this marriage. You haven't been able to find work in weeks. And my job at the Ministry won't pay for all this," she said and waved her arms about the flat and then the food. "And that's just for starters."

"Well, how did you get by before... before me?" he asked.

"You know I changed departments – to get away from Ron. Well, this new job doesn't pay as much."

"Oh." he said and dipped his head. He looked up as if struck by a realization. "Look, I know mum is pissed, but I don't think she'll cut me off. Not for too long that is. I don't think she can. It's not just her you see."

"It's not just her? Are talking about your dad? He's in Azkaban and your mum's in control of the estate."

"She won't – she can't, I tell you."

"Well, maybe. But she's not helping now. That's for sure."

Draco threw his hands up as if to say _okay, enough is enough._

"Well, what did she say?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The seer of course – what did she say?"

"She didn't. She couldn't see anything. Will you come back over here and get something to eat?"

"I hope she didn't charge too much."

"She didn't charge anything at all," she replied with a mouthful of crisps.

"Granger, come here," he commanded playfully while standing by the sink. Hermione put on a show of animated frustration but jumped out of her seat. She stood inches from the wizard and waited.

"I'll talk to mother tomorrow. I know in my heart – I know she's got to lighten up. She just has to."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"And I'll talk with Hippocrates Smethwyck at St Mungos. He's an old family friend and he owes us a favor. I'm sure he can find me something to do at the hospital."

"Well, that's great Draco."

"We can't have you spending any more money with seers," he went on and ran his hands inside her Tee shirt and along her back.

Hermione sighed, and then found her lips fumbling to find his.

**Three Weeks Later**

Hermione sat restlessly waiting for an appointment to see the Minister for Magic. She hadn't spoken with him since she left Law Enforcement for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She absentmindedly thumbed through a copy of _Witch Weekly_ but couldn't land on anything that really grabbed her attention. The door to Kingsley's office cracked open. Muffled voices could be heard and the door went full open. Tracy Tolly, the new secretary for the Minister came around the corner with a professional smile in powder blue robes.

"The Minister will see you now Hermione."

"Thanks Tracy," she replied and tossed the copy of _Witch Weekly_ back on the table. Tracy smiled genuinely this time and returned to her desk. She had been working as Kingsley's secretary for less than a year and already had an abundant collection of colorful bespoke work-robes. Hermione worked a year before she could afford her first. It had been rumored Tracy was from a well-to-do family and really didn't need the money the Ministry paid her. She was a cute blonde with huge blue eyes. When Ron and her had broken up, the word got around that Ron had been chatting up Tracy pretty hard.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had done pretty well for himself as Minister for Magic. After the war ended he was able to land Harry, Ron, and Neville as Aurors. Crime was at an all time low. Business along Diagon Alley was booming and the Governors were pleased with his work. Stepping past the leather padded door and into Kingsley's office was like visiting her great aunt's sitting room. The warm wooden walls had been darkened with age and Kingsley's incessant pipe smoking. The far wall was entirely of shelves. They were stocked full of books on wizarding law, court cases, and records from foreign Ministries and Magical Departments from around the world. The centerpiece was a huge mahogany desk with a green bankers lamp. Since Kingsley had not invited her and this visit was not concerning any business of his, he wouldn't be smoking his pipe. But if the visit was official business, and particularly business of his, then one would likely find him puffing away.

Hermione headed straight away to the large leather chair adjacent from the front of Kingsley's desk,

"Good morning Minister," she greeted.

"Morning Hermione," he replied and casually tossed a report he's been reading into a pile. "How's life in D.R.C.M.C.?"

"Oh, pretty good," she replied and smiled at his use of the acronym. "Still getting used to it really."

"Well let me know when you're ready to return to Law Enforcement."

Hermione chuckled at this.

"I will." She replied and settled down in the chair comfortably and crossed her legs.

"So what can I do for you this morning?"

She cleared her throat and spoke in a somewhat frail voice.

"I need a favor sir – a big one."

"Okay. What is it?"

"I need more money."

Kingsley laughed. "Well, it never hurts to ask. How much more?" he said as he fiddled with his pipe.

"Twenty to twenty five percent more. I could get by on twenty but twenty five would make it easier."

Now Kingsley had a firm grip on the bowl of the pipe and was tapping the stem on his desktop.

"Uhmmm, that's a significant amount Hermione. Especially since you're out of Law Enforcement. You were aware of the change in salary when you transferred?"

"Yes sir," she said and dropped her head. "But some things have changed."

"I'll say. So what's going on?"

"I'm married."

"We were all rather shocked to hear that. Unannounced and small wasn't it – the wedding?"

"Yes sir, with just his best friend and mine. We really felt it would work out best that way. Not everyone is happy about this marriage."

Kingsley chuckled, stifled it, then smiled.

"I understand. It was big news in the wizarding world. Quite a few are still trying to get their head around it. But anyway," he went on and waved his hand dismissively, "you're an intelligent girl Hermione, and I know you know what you're doing."

Hermione blushed at that. She knew she had no idea what she was doing.

"But Hermione," he said, as if suddenly aware. "Draco's family is well-to-do?"

"Yes sir – of course, but it's Narcissa. She's threatened to cut Draco off entirely and right now she's not allowing him to draw from his trust fund."

"Why?" he asked. "Because of you?"

"Well of course sir. She's furious Draco would even think of marrying a Muggle born."

Kingsley shook his head and grimaced.

"That evil witch. I always thought we should have thrown her in Azkaban to keep Lucius company. To think we fought a war on that and these archaic practices still persist."

"I know sir – it's awful, but that's where I'm at, and right now Draco and I are having a bit of a hard time."

"I'm sorry to hear that Hermione. I really am. But twenty five percent – I don't know. The governors set the pay-scale on these positions, and it's not entirely up to me to change them. Besides, we really need you back in Law Enforcement, that's where we could get your salary up."

Hermione puzzled on this a moment.

"I'll make a deal with you then."

"What kind of deal," he said, and curled his mouth into a grin.

"Look, I desperately needed a little time away from Ron..."

"That's understandable."

"But after a little while I should be able to come back. If I promise to do that, would that help with the governors?"

Kingsley scratched his head and pursed his lips.

"I'll approach them with your story Hermione. I can't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you sir. I appreciate it. Really I do."

Kingsley nodded and smiled warmly.

"Oh... before you leave," he said as she pulled up out of the chair. "could you take this package down to the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries? I've got Tracy busy with something else but I really need to get this back."

"Certainly sir."

Kingsley pushed to brown paper covered package to front of his desk. Hermione tucked it under her arm and headed toward the door.

"Thanks again sir."

Exhaling a big breath, Hermione felt good relieved to get that over with. She hated to have to ask, but they would need more to get by and there was no other options. Taking the lift down to the ninth floor and walking into the Department of Mysteries brought back memories, and not all of them were good. Hermione always thought it was a creepy place in general. As mysterious at the department itself were the employees that worked there. They were very rarely called by name and they never discussed their jobs.

The Time Room was easy enough to find. One just had to follow the growing sounds of clocks and chimes. The lady that worked there was pleasant enough although Hermione didn't know her name. The woman appeared to be working on a delicate timepiece, so Hermione put the package on the counter and continued on quietly, leaving through a door to the Hall of Prophecies. Taking a shortcut through the hall, Hermione noticed a door to the Ever-Locked-Room was cracked open. The Ever-Locked-Room or sometimes referred to as the Love Chamber was strictly off limits and was normally, as the name implied, locked. But on this day it was cracked open and a powerful source of light was flowing through the cracks into the dimly lit hall.

_Uhmmm. Curious. Very curious. I always wanted a peep in there._

She had made a promise to Draco there would be no more visits with divinationists, seers or soothsayers, but this was different. The Love Chamber was, after all, a proper department of the Ministry. A little look around shouldn't hurt, and it might help her with her growing list of questions.

Stepping a little closer to the door, there seemed to be no noises or anything foul coming from the room. Just the overly abundant source of light. With her hand on the doorknob, she pulled the door open and looked inside. There was a woman standing there looking into the orb of bright light floating above the floor. The woman seemed to sense a presence behind and she quickly turned around. She was wearing dark glasses with lens as black as licorice. When she turned further to see who was standing in the door, she no longer blocked the intense light of the orb. Hermione was hit by the full intensity of the light just as the woman screamed and waved her arms.

Hit at once by a feeling of dizziness, Hermione could feel her legs grow weak and wobble under her. The woman was running toward her now but she seemed to be moving in slow motion. The woman almost had a hand on Hermione's shoulder when the orb of light began to shrink rapidly. It quickly narrowed until it became a small beam and then a pinpoint hole in a black curtain. Then the curtain was pulled over Hermione's eyes until everything went black.

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A/N: Thanks for reading; don't forget to review.**  
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	2. Draco

**A/N: Post preview input:**Thanks for comments from Darkrini, Hanable-13, and the pre-shower babbling from Princess of Mirkwood2. Grats for the favs and follows.

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**2. Draco**

Draco settled into a spot just off the immediate grounds and paused for a moment to regather his senses and any other bits and pieces of his soul left behind from the process of apparition. Even from this distance the stone edifice was large and imposing with jutting angles and high towers piercing the clear morning sky. He pushed ahead, out of the shadows of towering junipers and across the dew covered lawn toward Malfoy Manor. With a slight breeze in his face, delicate tufts of blonde hair parted by the gentle breeze to expose a large pale forehead. Pointed features with a longish royal nose, Draco focused steel grey eyes over the manor. Moving through the cool morning breeze with a sense of purpose, the lapels of the great coat parted slightly as the young man made haste toward a small garden short of the house.

Struck by emotion, Draco swallowed hard and took a few moments to reminisce by the garden. He could almost see the faces of old friends Theodore Nott, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson, but the memories faded before he could enjoy them. Since leaving home months ago, nothing felt the same when he returned. The great sprawling mansion was empty now except for Narcissa and a few of her favorite house-elves. With his father in Azkaban, Narcissa was all that was left to carry on the family tradition. And what an awful tradition it was.

Malfoy Manor stood there in it's full Gothic majesty like a huge monster with no heart. In the center of it, and what passed for a heart, was Narcissa Malfoy with all her prejudices and foul contempt for those born with less status than her own. Saving the garden memory for another time, he pushed on toward the gate and the huge double front doors.

The double doors opened magically and Draco entered the large corridor to the Great Hall. The house was as dimly lit as always.

"Good morning Master Draco."

Draco spun to face the house-elf.

"Good morning Gilbert. I believe Narcissa's expecting me."

"Yes, of course sir. She's in the reading room."

Draco nodded and followed the house-elf leading him toward the reading room. Draco knew where the room was and didn't require assistance, but Gilbert was just following protocol and doing what he was taught to do. Gilbert paused by the door and waved Draco in.

"Madam," the little elf croaked. "Master Draco is here."

"Show him in," she ordered, and Draco shook his head at the useless formalities and entered. The reading room was part of an adjunct extension of the mansion with huge skylights and was always well lit in the mornings. He fell into a large Chesterfield opposite his mother behind a small table.

"Would you like tea sir?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, thanks Gilbert."

"You're out early this morning," Narcissa said after she pulled the teacup away from violet painted lips.

"How have you been mother? Well?"

"The same. More of the same. What brings you home?"

"I needed to see you. I wanted to talk to you," he said and Narcissa curled the corner of her mouth into a grin.

"Yes, it's been a while – and I expected you sooner. Do you need money?" she asked and pursed her painted lips.

Gilbert was entering the room with the tea. Draco paused while Gilbert made a huge fuss of pouring the tea.

"I'm not sure how to answer that," he managed at length.

"Well, do you need money or _don't _you? It's that simple. I'm surprised you've gotten along this far without it. How _are_ you getting along, by the way?"

"I'm happy. I can tell you that – very happy," he reiterated pleasurably.

"That's nice... but experience tells me it takes more... Your girl, she makes money then?"

"Yes – she does, and it's Hermione, but I didn't come here for money."

"Really," she burst out. "You've come here to convince me to accept this little arrangement then! Is that it? Do you want everything to be as it was – back to normal with use of your trust again and all that," she continued, animated and mockingly.

"No, I don't want everything as it was. I know that's not possible right now... hell, maybe never. I just want you to try. That's all."

"I have Draco, and it's harder for me than you'll ever know. When I think of that lovely girl and how you did her. She loves you, you know."

"Oh mother – we've been through this so many times."

"Well, she does."

"It wasn't me she loved. It was all this," he said and looked toward the ceilings of Malfoy Manor. "It was the name – it was an empty position that Astoria saw her herself filling. It had little to do with me."

"That's not fair. And that's what marriage is – or has been for this family until you came along. The Greengrass are a fine family. It would have been a good fit for you, you know," she went on.

"I don't want to be a _good fit_," he protested. "And I didn't come here to argue."

"Well then, why _did_ you come?"

"I want you to meet with Hermione and I. Invite us for tea. We could go for dinner..."

"Oh, stop it... Please."

"If you could just give it a chance."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because Draco, you have to be responsible for your actions. If you continue with this girl then your ruination will be very real. You might as well learn that right now. Before it's too late."

"She's good for me."

"She's Muggle born..."

"She's a powerful witch."

"...and beneath your station."

"So, you won't give it a chance then?"

"Not this arrangement – no way. Now that your father is gone I have to rule in his absence. I'm sorry Draco, but this family has been through a lot to get to where it is now. If you want to be a part of it, you'll have to do the same."

Draco shook his head with disgust.

"Yes, father isn't here because he's in prison. Because of this pure-blood mania he's in prison."

Moved to action, Narcissa pointed a stern finger at Draco.

"That's not the only issue here – Astoria is from a very fine family. One you could be proud to be a part of. One your parents could be proud of."

Draco took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Well, then there's nothing left for us to discuss," he said vehemently and rose from the chair. "Goodbye mother."

"Draco," she said before he left and he turned sourly to face her.

"Yes?"

"I've no wish to see you starve, or to see you barren in the streets. How much do you need to get by – so you won't have to live off this girl."

"Hermione!"

"_What?_"

"Her name's Hermione."

"Fine, Hermione then. How much do you need?"

"A thousand pounds would get me by."

Narcissa made an animated look.

"Well, I'll say," she replied and pulled a black cheque-book from somewhere in the layers of her gown. "I thought you just needed money to eat – I'll give you five hundred."

With a nearby quill, she scribbled out the cheque. She tore it out of the book and blew on the ink before handing it to Draco.

"Thank you. I'll pay you back when I find work."

"Work? You'll be working then?" she asked with an amused face.

"Yes," he replied defensively. "Something wrong with that?"

Astoria waved her hand dismissively.

"No, of course not," she replied with a grin. "Let me know how this adventure turns out."

‡‡‡‡‡

Carefully putting away the cheque, he took one last look at Malfoy Manor before leaving. He'd really hoped he could get through this time but it wasn't to be. Narcissa was just as bitter and determined as ever, and his absence over the past several months had done little to soften her stand. He tried to put the whole episode behind but he couldn't help from feeling a touch of depression as he left the Manor far behind. He had thought this time that Narcissa might budge. He felt certain if she could see him and Hermione together it would be just the magic to melt her hardened heart.

Who could have never imagined, when he reminisced of the past, that he and Granger would become a team. Not so much from his own point of view but from her's. He chuckled at the hard times he gave her in school. How in the world had she ever conceded to marry? But she did. Nevertheless, he often worried. Would her love fade when she learned how useless he really was?

She would often ask why he had dated her instead of marrying Astoria. Mostly he would shrug his shoulders and pretend not to know the answer. This frustrated the witch to no end. Yes, Astoria was beautiful but in a way that resembled a china doll – ethereal and delicate. Hermione was a more physical being and her beauty came from the inside out. But of course that wasn't the answer she was looking for. He wasn't ready to tell her. Not yet at least. Maybe not for many years. Maybe never.

He had figured Narcissa all wrong. He would have never dreamed his mother would cut him off. But she did and now he had to find work to retain any trace of respect. Hippocrates Smethwyck was an old friend of the family and maybe his last hope. The magical entrance to St. Mungo's was just around the next corner of the old disused Purge and Dowse building. Pausing by the plate glass window to make sure he was alone, he stepped through the magical entryway. Immediately the scenery changed and the entrance to St Mungo's was squarely in front of him. Adjusting his tie, he took a deep breath and entered. There was a young receptionist that took notice of him and greeted him with a warm smile.

"Can I help you sir?" she asked.

"Yes, I'd like to see Hippocrates Smethwyck please."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked and glanced at a timetable in front of her.

"Uh... no I don't. Could you just tell him Draco Malfoy is here?"

She looked back suspiciously and wrinkled her nose.

"Alright – I'll tell him." She conceded and she swished off in a freshly starched frock. Draco paced nervously. His life and future was clearly in the hands of Hippocrates, or so it felt. He had worked for the wizard while finishing his public service duty but hadn't spoken with him since. The way Draco saw it, he stilled owed the Malfoys a favor. He just hoped Hippocrates hadn't forgotten how Lucius had bailed him out years ago when he finances threatened to destroy his medical career.

"He'll see you now," the receptionist said, yanking Draco from his thoughts.

"Thank you."

"Come this way sir," she said, turning to smile.

He followed, although he knew exactly where Hippocrates's office was located. The girl opened his door and disappeared after another smile. Hippocrates was seated at his desk and pouring over ancient looking medical manuals. His grey hair, on the sides of his head, was flying in all directions while the top was as slick as a billiard ball. Finally aware someone else was in the room, he snapped up, startled.

"Hello Hippocrates."

"Draco... I wondered when you'd come in."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said and rose with his arm outstretched. Draco took the wizard's hand warmly.

"If I'd known you were waiting I would have come earlier," Draco fired back.

"Yes, Draco – we're doing all we can and she's showing improvement," Hippocrates explained.

"Who's showing improvement and what are you talking about?"

Hippocrates looked back in stunned confusion.

"Well, Hermione – of course," he replied. "Isn't that why you're here?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Hermione's just fine..."

Hippocrates made an anguished face.

"Draco, sit down son."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"There's been an accident – at work."

"An accident – what kind of accident? Today?"

"Yes – today – at work. Sit down Draco."

Reluctantly, Draco took a large leather covered chair in front of the wizard's desk. He looked sallow and tense and he waited for Hippocrates to explain.

"They were doing some experimental work at the Ministry. Downstairs, in the Love Chamber. They're always experimenting down there. All kinds of things in the Time room, and the Love Chamber in the Hall of Mysteries," he said and paused. "Apparently they were running some high powered experiment this morning. Said they were trying out a new generator and the damn thing was cranked up to full power. In their excitement, they forgot to lock all the doors. I'm afraid Hermione was curious and wandered in."

"Okay," Draco said, barely holding his patience. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I'm sorry Draco. I'm afraid not – I wish it were."

Draco thought about this for a few moments. Still not ready to believe it.

"What happened then?" Draco asked, skeptically, and Hippocrates shook his head slowly.

"Right now she's unconscious. What the long term effects are – we'll just have to wait and see."

"Long term effects?" Draco asked, figuratively, to no one in particular.

"Yes, the specialists at the Ministry have instructed us to expect some lingering symptoms. Not sure sure what they might be at this time."

Draco sank further into the chair.. He began to shake his bowed head with a look of bewilderment. The old healer stepped up to place his hand on Draco's shoulder, reassuringly.

"When can I see her?" asked Draco.

"She's still out of it – we'll let you know when she comes to. Get some rest at home and we'll send you an Owl when she's able to see you.

‡‡‡‡‡

Reluctant to leave the hospital, Hippocrates finally persuaded Draco to go home for awhile and come back later. He tried to explain to Hippocrates that there was nowhere to go but didn't want to burden the wizard with his personal problems. Leaving the hospital, Draco wandered aimlessly until he found himself at a nearby tube station. Unable to think of a better way to kill time, he took the Tottenham Court Rd tunnel and rode the train until he couldn't stand it any longer and then got off at a station near Hermione's flat.

Grudgingly, he went back to their empty flat and every minute there was a sore reminder that something was wrong. With her gone, he became aware of just how small the place was. Funny how he never felt that way before. He also noticed there were plants everywhere and that they probably needed watering. With some mental misplaced thought he was helping Hermione, he quickly went around to all the plants and gave them what he guessed was enough water and then collapsed on the sofa. There was no way he could stay there any longer. Not tonight. Not until he knew Hermione was okay. Grabbing up his coat, he went out the back and disapparated to the Leaky Cauldron for a quick sandwich and a beer before returning to the hospital.

The waiting room was a place were visitors would arrive in good spirits and leave without being able to hide their worries and concerns. When all the evening's guests had come and gone, the hospital staff turned down the lights and Draco piled up on a nice long couch. Seeing his predicament, the head nurse popped out with a blanket and a pillow. With these two items, Draco settled in comfortably and let the tensions of the day ooze away. Out in the corridors, there were soft footsteps and whispering voices that carried on throughout the night. But Draco found the soft helpful sounds very assuring and drifted into a deep sleep.

Shafts of light were streaking across his face. Voices became louder and Draco opened his eyes. It was morning and didn't know where he was for the first few moments. And then a sinking feeling, and he remembered exactly where he was and why he was there. He tried to close his eyes but heard a feminine voice calling softly.

"Mr Malfoy... Mr Malfoy are you awake?"

He shook off the sleep and struggled to rise.

"Yes... I'm awake," he replied, addressing a pretty nurse in a snow white uniform.

"Good morning sir," she said, smiling. "Thought you'd want to know – Miss Hermione is awake now."

Draco paused.

"She's awake?"

"Yes sir. She's awake now if you'd like to go in."

"For sure," he replied. "Which room? - and I need to find the loo."

"It's room 308, and the loo at the end of the corridor to your right," she said, smiling and disappeared.

Draco relieved himself and then ran a comb quickly through oily blonde hair. He checked his ragged appearance several times in the mirror before saying to hell with it and quickly ran out. There were no other visitors in the corridors and each footstep rang out loudly. He paused in front of 308 and took a deep breath. The door was cracked and he only had to push lightly for it to swing quietly open.

Hermione's bed was cranked up to a position where she was almost sitting. Her eyes were closed and she didn't hear him enter. He stood by the foot of her bed fort the longest time. At last, she took a deep breath and she opened her eyes. She looked surprised. She squinted her eyes to verify the sight.

"Draco?"

"I hated to wake you."

"Oh I'm awake. Feel like I've been sleeping for days."

"How do you feel?" he asked in a pale voice.

"Okay I guess... So what brings you here?" she asked, casually.

Draco grimaced.

"Hermione – you've had an accident."

"So they tell me but..."

The door pushed open and Ginny Weasley entered cautiously. She paused to smile at Draco and then nudged up to the railing by Hermione's bed.

"How are you feeling Hermione?"

"Pretty good Gin – pretty good."

"You gave us quite a scare, you know."

"I'm sorry about that," she said and shook her head. "I'm too curious for my own good."

Ginny chuckled, relieved that Hermione was in good spirits.

"Draco..." Hermione called.

"Yes."

"Could I have a moment with Ginny?"

Draco looked puzzled.

"Sure – I'll be right outside."

Glancing toward the door as Draco exited the room, Hermione slowly turned back toward Ginny and beckoned her closer with her index finger.

"Ginny?" she asked in a voice too soft for Draco to hear.

"What is it Hermione?"

"Why's he here?"

:

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A/N: PS. don't forget to review and thanks for reading...


	3. St Mungo's

**A/N: **The chapters aren't likely to be all the same size. This one was ready, so instead of waiting till Saturday morning - here it is.

Encouragement from FandomTakeover. Grats for the favs and follows.

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**3. St. Mungo's**

Ginny swallowed hard and tried hard not to reflect the shock she felt at Hermione's question. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten her closest friend. The Healers said there would be memory loss from the accident, but she had never expected anything like this.

"Hermione – you don't know?" she asked, casually.

Hermione looked unsure of herself.

"No, but I'm thinking I should – shouldn't I?" she stated meekly, and Ginny nodded slowly.

"How much _do_ you remember – about Draco?"

"Well... that I hated him for most of my life," she said as if counting mentally. "And then, let me see... I was his case officer not too long ago. He'd had improved a little by then – not much. He asked me out, and my memory ends there. Have I missed anything?"

"Probably more than you want to know. You were going out with him," Ginny stated flatly.

"I did?" Hermione asked, and grimaced like she'd just wet her pants.

"You sure did Hermione."

"Wow, what was I thinking. It's over now?" she asked, with hope in her voice.

There was a long pause by Ginny and then with a big breath she gathered her nerve.

"How do you want it?"

"What?" asked Hermione.

"You want it straight or sugar coated?"

"We don't have much time – just give it to me straight," Hermione explained, with a quavering voice.

"You've been with him for several months now. He's been staying at your flat and you two are married," Ginny threw out the details as if she was explained a car crash.

Hermione gasped as if there was a sudden shortage of air.

"Oh my God... Ginny, if this is some kind of joke..."

Ginny never cracked a smile.

"Hermione – I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"Oh my God," repeated Hermione. "I don't believe it."

"He's still outside. Should I bring him in?"

"Ginny, I'm feeling sick."

"I'll get Hippocrates. He needs to hear this," Ginny said, running toward the door.

‡‡‡‡‡

Outside, Draco paced back and forth in the small waiting area. _What the hell was that about? _ He wondered what could be so important that Hermione would oust him to speak with Ginny. Almost angry now, he heard footsteps and Ginny turned the corner. She flushed red as soon as she saw him.

"What's wrong with her?" he blurted.

"Well," she managed at length. "It's a bit shocking."

"Go on," he pleaded, impatiently.

"It's her memory – much of it is lost."

Draco swallowed hard, his chin nearly on his chest. And then with Malfoy arrogance, he rejected the news and lifted his head and stuck out his chest.

"She'll be fine – I'm sure of it. I just need to talk with her," he exclaimed and moved toward her door.

"Draco, wait, you don't understand," she persisted.

"What's there to understand?" he fired back. "I'm sure her memories will be back in no time."

He turned toward Hermione's door.

"Draco wait," she repeated. "Have you spoken to Hippocrates about her condition?"

He stopped and slowly turned to face her.

"No, not yet."

"Well, don't you think you should?"

He paused to consider the question.

"I will, but first I need to see Hermione," he replied and stormed off.

‡‡‡‡‡

Hermione listened as Ginny's soft footsteps left the room and disappeared down a long corridor, and for the first time she was afraid. _Just how much memory have I lost?_ She couldn't imagine why Ginny would lie to her, but she couldn't make herself believe this whole crazy story. Several minutes later footsteps, and heavier this time, were entering the room. Oh shit – it was Draco.

With a look of concern, which wasn't typical of the wizard, Draco entered the room and approached the bedside. He looked like he wanted to speak but didn't.

"You're back," she said, trying to be casual and pleasant. Draco nodded. "I talked to Ginny," she continued. "I tried to make her explain why you're here."

"It'll all come back in time – I'm sure of it – you'll be back to normal in no time," he replied, encouragingly.

"Well, I hope. I'm already getting tired of asking others what my life is about. And she wouldn't tell me everything," she added slyly, hoping to hear a different version from Draco.

He paused for a few moments.

"What _do_ you remember Hermione?"

"Not much. Oh of school everything – but nothing about... _us_," she replied with a fragile voice. "I mean, about us now?"

"Oh – well, it may come off as a bit shocking..." he said and reached for her hand and instinctively, she pulled it back.

"It couldn't be any wilder than what I've already heard," Hermione quickly injected. "We were... dating?"

"Well, we did date – yes."

"We did? Not now?" she asked with a trace of hope in her voice.

"No, not exactly."

"Well, what exactly then?" she demanded, impatiently.

"I've been staying at your place for about four months now," he announced and Hermione gasped.

She reeled back defensively and then looked very firm.

"I'm sorry Draco. All I remember of you is your cruelty and your jokes and your pranks. Is this one of them now?"

"I'm not joking and that's not all of it."

"What else then?" she asked, hoping his story didn't match Ginny's.

"We're married," he announced, confirming Ginny's story, and Hermione slammed her eyes shut.

"I don't believe it and when did you start calling me Hermione?"

"I still call you Granger – sometimes – when I'm angry or frustrated. But we got past all that. We dated for some time after you were my case officer. We lived in your flat for a few months and then we got married. You'll understand in time. It'll all come back to you. I know it will."

"But I don't understand _now_ Draco," she pleaded. "I just don't understand, and it's not logical – any of it."

"Logical," he said and laughed. "Well of course it's not logical," he added and reached for her hand again. This time he caught her hand and cupped his other hand over hers and rubbed. "I know you can't remember Granger – but can't you feel anything, anything at all?"

"I can feel you rubbing my hand – and it feels weird."

Draco dropped her hand and shook his head. Disgusted, he walked over to a widow and looked out for the longest time at nothing.

‡‡‡‡‡

Days later, Hermione awoke to talking and laughter just outside her door. She could recognize her mother's laugh and guessed she heard the head nurse's voice. The door opened and the sounds of the corridor grew louder.

"Good morning," her Mum greeted Hermione and set a huge potted plant on the small table by the window.

"Morning Mum – Dad. How are things?"

"Well fine of course, and how are you doing?"

"Okay I suppose."

"Just Okay?" her mother asked cheerily.

"I'm fine – really."

"Good to hear it," replied Mrs Granger and patted her daughter's hand and looking her over as to any clue to changes in her condition. "Your father and I have been doing a bit of shopping. Do you know Ellis and Burkes – the new department store?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, they had quite a few things on sale. We found some jeans like your old ones that should fit your new physique and..."

"My bony frame you mean."

"You lost weight – that's all. You need to eat. The nurse said..."

"Yeah, but the food here is awful."

Mrs Granger gave her daughter a scolding look of disapproval.

"And some new cardigans – you said you've been cold here," she went on and pulled a mousy brown cardigan from the bag. "What do you think?"

"It looks fine."

"Do you like it?"

Hermione nodded.

"Oh, I ran into an old friend – Mrs Mearshanks. She used to keep you when you were young. Do you remember her?"

"Oddly enough, yes."

"Well, she gives you her best and sends her love."

Hermione smiled politely but didn't reply.

"We've spoken to Hippocrates – he's says they can dismiss you by Friday. Isn't that great?"

"Does he know what's wrong with me?" blurted Hermione, taking her Mum off guard.

"Well, you've lost some memory dear..."

"Some memory? Merlin's Beard – more than just some memory, and why some things and not others?"

Her mother gave Mr Granger a pleading look for a helping hand.

"They're not really sure Hermione," her father added firmly. "It's all a little new to them."

"A little new – what's new about memory loss. Both of you lost memory – but you got it back."

"Yes dear, but Hippocrates says this is different. And it took us some time – you should know that."

"Yes, of course. I do," she said, consentingly.

"So... where's Draco this morning," asked her Mum as Hermione's Dad grabbed a chair in the small room.

"Haven't seen him," she answered dryly.

"Really... he's been here every morning."

"I'm sure he'll show up," Hermione replied and rolled her shoulders into shrug.

For the first time, her mother seemed unsure of the conversation.

"Do you enjoy his visits Hermione?" she asked, shrewdly.

"I don't know – no not really," she confessed.

"Why is that dear? You two were pretty close."

"I don't know, but this is a huge mess."

"Why is that Hermione?"

"He said we were married," she added with no trace of emotion. Her mother gasped. "Did you know that?"

Her mum took several moments to recover. Mr Granger slowly arose from the chair.

"You act like you don't believe it," asked her mum.

"I don't know what to believe – I can tell you that."

"Why not Hermione?" asked her father.

"It doesn't make any sense – none of it. Why would I be seeing Draco Malfoy in the first place?"

Mrs Granger looked at her husband and they smile simultaneously.

"What are you grinning at?" Hermione protested.

"Hermione – you were happy – when you were seeing Draco. And... we don't find this amusing, but dating, and relationships, and those things... Well, they hardly ever make sense."

"No – I'm sure you're right – but still, this feels like a dream. A bad dream. One I can't wake from. I'm supposed to have married a man I detested for most of my life, and I don't remember how we got started in the first place."

"Your memory will come back dear," her father added.

"I don't know that. I can't be sure. And there's something much worse."

"What's that Hermione?" asked her mum.

Hermione wiped her eyes, now full of water.

"I don't feel anything for him – nor do I love him. Don't you understand?"

The Grangers looked at one another, exchanging looks of worry that only a parent could.

‡‡‡‡‡

Hermione checked herself in the mirror. The new jeans her mother had found fit perfectly in the new slimmer version of herself. She threw on one of the new cardigans and stuffed all her old things into bags. Scheduled to meet Hippocrates for her exit interview, she was as happy as she had been since entering the hospital. Meekly, she poked her head out of her door and looked around for the head nurse.

The head nurse escorted her downstairs to the door of Hippocrates office. After the appropriate amount of well wishing, hand shaking, and shoulder patting, the head nurse finally said goodbye. Hermione knocked on the head Healer's door and heard a faint, _come in_.

Entering Hippocrates office for the first time is an eye opening experience for anyone. A huge airy affair with tons of windows and lighting, Hippocrates was seated behind a large desk with his back facing the door. There were medical volumes cased in shelves along the entire back wall. Magical animals, pickled in preservatives, were trapped for an eternity in bottles about the room. Stuffed animals caught in some action pose and skeletons were hanging on racks in every conceivable position. Large skylights let in ample sunlight for reading, observing, and just anything that required light.

Caught in some ancient volume, Hippocrates held an index finger pointed heavenward to plead for a moment of time. After a few seconds the white-haired Healer turned to face his patient.

"Hermione! Good to see you – how do you feel."

"Well, if you'll excuse me for saying. Now that I'm getting out of here – better."

Hippocrates' laugh was genuine and warming.

"Good – that's very good. Just what I wanted to hear. Have a seat Hermione," he said and pointed to the slick leather chesterfield in front of his desk.

"I'm sure you've got questions, and I'm sorry for not being able to speak with you earlier," he apologized.

"Yes sir, I do," she replied and Hippocrates nodded receptively. "Number one: what's wrong with me? I mean it's obvious I've lost memories – but why some and not others. I'm supposed to be married to a man I barely know and at the same time events on the day of the accident are very clear."

Hippocrates paused, uncomfortably.

"Do you remember Hermione – where you were on the day of the accident?"

"I was in the Ministry – somewhere in the Department of Mysteries."

"More specifically – the Love Chamber."

"Okay, the Love Chamber, then. What does it matter, really?"

"Well, your problem – it's not simply a memory related issue."

"What is it then?" she asked, her curiosity edging up a notch.

"It's related to love. You see they were doing some rather powerful experiments with a love generator."

"And that's responsible for my memory loss – how?"

"Well, you see – an overdose of anything – be it good or bad, it can be harmful."

"You're saying I got an overdose of love?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. A very strong and even dangerous overdose. One so severe, that I'm afraid it's overpowered and erased memories connected with love. That's why you can remember some things and not others."

"So I can't remember things I love?"

"After observing you for a week – that's what we think. Sorry for not being able to tell you this earlier, but the long observation process was essential."

"So what's the cure?" she asked, with desperation creeping into her voice.

"This is all very new to us Hermione. I've warned those people at the Ministry that an accident like this would happen one day. But this is all so very new."

"But you didn't answer my question – is there a cure?"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"I don't know of one. And I'm sorry to have to tell you this."

"So what do I do?" she asked, tears swelling.

"Simple – just resume your life as it was and try to remember."

"Well, that's not possible," she protested.

"And why is that Hermione?"

"I was married to man I barely know – and for the most of my life I couldn't stand."

"Oh," he said. "You mean Draco?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

Hippocrates paused to reflect on Hermione's dilemma.

"Hermione," he said. "It's important you try to resume your old life, and as quickly as possible."

"But sir," she protested. "Does that mean jumping in the bed with a man I hardly know?"

"No, of course not, but that doesn't mean you can totally avoid this young man and ever hope to regain your memories again."

"It doesn't?" she asked, sullenly.

"No. I'm afraid not. If you want to remember and regain the capacity to love you must return to the same environment you left behind. Or at least as much as possible."

Now it was Hermione's turn to ponder the situation.

"Just how 'close' to Draco Malfoy do I have to get?"

"As much as your conscious allows."

Hermione buried her face in her hands.

"Report back in a week and we'll discus your progress," he added.

* * *

A/N: Feedback helps - don't forget to review. Oh, and thanks for reading...


	4. Home Sweet Home

**A/N: **The fourth chapter 'Ships in the Night' has been scraped in favor of a re-write. The re-write, 'Home Sweet Home' is basically the same, but hopefully with more feeling, emotion, and simply better, I hope. This rarely happens in my stories, but I thought this chapter was important - important enough to re-write it as the original effort just felt weak.

Thanks to those that reviewed and favorited.

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**4. Home Sweet Home**

_Do what you've been doing and Report back in a week_. Damn! Was that the best that modern wizarding medicine could come up with? What was she to do – return to her flat and fall into a man's arms whom she had despised for most of her life? How would she ever manage a whole weekend in her small flat with Draco Malfoy? As Hermione approached the door of her flat, snakes were rolling in her belly.

It felt for all the world that she should be able to smack herself or pinch herself and wake from this whole mess. But she couldn't. She'd tried it already and it didn't work. Still, the situation was almost impossible to believe, but Ginny had sworn on her firstborn that the part about her being married was true. _Marriage – Oh my God_.

Hippocrates had said, her memory loss didn't include inanimate objects – just the things associated with love. So she tried to remove the troubling thoughts from her mind by thinking about her flat. She tried to remember it just the way it was on the last day she was there and this thought immediately improved her spirits. But with her hand almost on the door, she was stopped cold as a stone by a vision. Her flat had only one bed. The snakes were rolling like never before and she suddenly felt as if she might throw up. She paused to steady herself and vowed there would be new rules – yes all new rules.

For the sake of appearances and nosy neighbors, Hermione coaxed trembling fingers to get her key in the lock and open the door. Timidly she stuck her head in her flat and looked around; and was abruptly greeted by a rather unusual blend of cooking smells. Draco wheeled around immediately. He was standing in the kitchen in his black trousers and white shirt and wearing her bold printed apron. She tried to stifle a laugh but it burst out anyway. Suddenly, aware of wearing her apron, he snatched it off.

She stood in the doorway looking as cool as a cucumber and leaning against the door frame to stop her knees from shaking. Draco smiled. It wasn't a casual smile or a smirking smile or like any smile she had ever seen Draco smile like before. It was a warm smile that included the eyes, and it went all the way down into the core of him – to the heart and then back up. She tried to smile back warmly – she really did, but the snakes in her belly made a fast twitch. She managed to curl the corners of her mouth upwards, for only a moment or two, and then let the whole thing drop. It was a polite smile but not an ounce more.

He ran to the doorway without saying a word and then stopped. He looked her over from head to toe like she was a door-to-door salesperson. This went on for only a moment and he snapped out of it with another large smile.

"Here, let me get these for you," he said at length and grabbed the bags out of her hand. He ran off toward the bedroom and dropped off the bags.

"I've fixed some lunch – hope you can eat it," he added on a cheery note.

"_That_ was nice of you." _Draco Malfoy doing something thoughtful? Is that possible._

"You really didn't have to go all that trouble, and I'm not hungry."

"We can wait till later," he assuaged. "How do you feel by the way?"

"Okay," she lied. What she really wanted was to curl up in bed with Crookshanks.

"Are you tired - would you like to take a nap?" he asked, with a way too cozy smile on his face.

Hermione blushed and looked around the room.

"So what's for lunch – and where'd you learn to cook?"

"Just threw a few things together really – and it's something I've been doing for some time now."

"Really!?" she replied with genuine surprise.

"For sure. You were always tired when you got home from work, and... so I've set myself to learn."

"That's very considerate of you," she added

Draco didn't reply but just stood there staring at her with some dreamy expression.

"Do we have time to talk?" she asked, waking Draco from the dream.

"Well sure. I have all the time in the world."

"It won't take that long," she corrected.

Draco plopped down on the couch and patted a spot beside him, invitingly. Hermione ignored his gesture and pulled up a chair opposite the couch.

"I talked to Hippocrates today," she began.

"That's great – whad he say?"

"That I'm to go back to resuming my former activities – my former life."

"That sounds like good advice," he agreed and smiled sweetly, but Hermione maintained a stair as cold as a stone. "Are you okay with that?" he asked with an air of uncertainty.

Hermione smiled unevenly and let the question hang in the air like butterfly with sore feet.

"Well, that's very difficult Draco," she replied "It's like starting over on a book that you put down a long time ago. It just works better if you start over from the beginning."

"But, we're not really talking about a book – are we?" he said, very slowly.

"No, of course not."

"So... what _are_ we talking about Granger."

She looked away as if experiencing real pain.

"We... we need to start all over again," she stammered.

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"No – not exactly – I mean, that's what I meant," she replied in a frail voice.

"Hermione – just spell it out. What _do_ you mean?"

She began after a long exhale of breath. "We were physical I take it?"

"What?" he asked, now puzzled.

"Physical – you know – sex and all that?"

Draco curled the corner of his mouth into a wry grin.

"Well, for sure. We were married and you were always very..."

"Draco – please," she shouted.

"I'm just trying to..."

"I understand," she injected. "But I'm not ready for all that now. And we need to establish some new rules."

"New rules?" he asked and immediately frowned. "What kind of new rules?"

Hermione drew her lips together tightly.

"Oh come on. You must know things are different now," she explained.

"Things are different? Explain _that_ Hermione."

"Look, I don't remember any of this – this thing with us."

"Well I'm here to help with that," he replied with a smile. "Because, you're my wife."

_Finally he played the wife card. She knew he was bound to throw that one down, sooner or later._

"Look, I don't remember dating you Draco. I don't even remember how we got mixed up in the first place. And I'm terribly sorry, but right now I don't feel like anyone's wife," she pleaded.

"So, how are we to handle this Hermione – just what do you have in mind?" he said, and threw his arms up.

"Just calm down Draco. It's simple really. We both live here while I try and get my memory back. One of us will have to sleep on the couch. Since this is my flat, I think it'll have to be you. We can eat dinner together. We can talk. That's a start. You can..." she went on and rolled her eyes. "You can explain to me how we got started. You can tell me things we used to do"

Draco's posture suddenly deteriorated as he melted into the couch. He looked completed gutted, and for a moment she almost felt sorry for him.

"That sounds like fun," he replied, sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be. I'm sorry."

Draco nodded and then stared off into space, dejected. They both paused for a few moments till the silence became overbearing.

"I'll do it," he said with a certain air that only Draco could manage. "Even if you don't feel married, I do. So when do we start talking? We can talk all night if you like."

"I'd like to take that nap now – if you don't mind," she said. "The food – can we warm it up later?"

"Sure Granger," he replied, sullenly. "We can do that too."

Satisfied she'd made her feelings clear, she went straight into her bedroom and shut the door.

‡‡‡‡‡

Feeling like the soul survivor of an emotional train wreck, Hermione peeled down to her underthings and slipped under the covers. Within minutes she was fast asleep. It was a deep sleep and she was oblivious to all things around her, but before waking she slipped into a dream. In the dream she was back in the Department of Mysteries and trying to find her way out. No matter which door she took, she kept running into the blinding light and the woman with the eerie onyx colored glasses. Growing desperate to escape, she began to run. She kept running but there was no getting away from the woman and the blinding light. She began to cry out until she felt a hand on hers and someone or some thing pulled her straight up and out of the chamber.

She opened her eyes and was startled to see Draco sitting at the side of her bed. Instinctively, she jerked her hand back and recoiled.

"Draco – what the hell are you doing here?" she asked, pulling the covers over her chest.

"You were having a bad dream Hermione. I just thought..."

"Oh... Well, I have dreams all the time now. It's no big deal."

"About the accident?"

"Yes?"

He tried to take her hand again, but she was holding onto the covers fast. He made a little sad face and rubbed her bushy head compassionately and then got up.

"You feel like eating?"

She batted her eyes in coordination with small nods that said yes.

With Draco out of her room, she dug around in her wardrobe for something to wear. She pulled out a comfortable frock, but decided it was too comfortable and much too short. She must have worn that in another life, she thought. There was no point in adding to poor Draco's pain, so she settled for a fresh pair of faded jeans that were baggy over her thin frame and an old loose tee. The odd cooking smells were wafting again and there were noises in the kitchen. Draco was busy stirring something over the hob and didn't notice her entering.

"So what _are _you fixing, by the way?" she asked, curiously.

"You don't remember?"

"Of course not, I don't remember anything. Remember?"

"It's something we found at the street fest."

"Street fest? What street fest?"

"You know – back when we did lunch together. The street food vendors. Grab a seat," he replied and pointed to the table. She gave him a look like he was mental and then plopped down at her place at the table.

She had to chuckle at how Draco had set the table. It was way too formal for her tastes, but at least he got the silverware on the right sides and in the correct positions. Busy, rolling a white flat bread into a cone he scooped up rice and vegetables from a pan and poured them into the cone. He followed that with seared meat cubes cooked in some kind of spicy gravy. He carefully sat the cone in Hermione's plate and followed that with a large glass of ice cold pumpkin juice.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is or what?" she demanded.

He repeated the same procedure for himself and then fell into a chair at the table.

"I don't remember the name really - or if it ever had one," he said and forked some of the meat cubes out of his cone and onto the plate.

"But we ate this together? At a gathering of street food vendors?"

"We sure did - it was a fond moment really. One that made an impression on you. Or at least that's what I always thought," he said and grinned.

"Not bad," she said after a taste. "So how'd you manage to duplicate this – or did you?"

"I had to beg them for the recipe."

"Well, you won't find anything like this at Hogwarts," she said and followed the bite with a long pull of pumpkin juice. "Hey, what do you mean - 'made an impression'? I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Nothing bad Granger," he replied, defensively. "I'd asked you several times to consider having our luncheon elsewhere - other than the Ministry canteen."

"So, I must have relented," she said and popped a morsel of marinated meat into her mouth.

"Yeah - you did - a little. But you were a hard one. Strictly business you were," he said and pointed a fork for emphasis.

Hermione thought for a moment.

"So when did I stop being a 'hard one'?" she asked.

Draco grinned. "Who ever said you did?"

"I was that bad, huh? So why'd you stick around?" she asked and canted her head.

‡‡‡‡‡

_There she was, back to the sixty four million dollar question. Next she'd want to know why he left Astoria to date her. It was the same old questions - all over again. Well, he wouldn't tell her. He knew she needed the answers more than ever, but he couldn't tell her. Not right now._

"You don't give yourself enough credit Granger," he replied.

She considered the answer, and looked Draco hard in the eyes and then laughed.

"I can't ask you a serious question – can I?"

"You can laugh if you like. But your self doubt – it makes you more attractive."

"I never could believe you were for real," she continued. "You had the perfect thing with Astoria. I didn't trust that, but now I don't know what changed my mind – I guess something must have changed it."

_Oh God, here it was back to why he wanted to get away from Astoria. Why couldn't she just accept it and not ask anymore fucking questions._

Carefully Draco put down the silverware on the table. He took a deep breath before answering.

"I don't know Granger. Maybe you reached out for me. Maybe, I reached out for you. Hell, maybe we reached out for each other. Yeah," he said, content with the answer. "In a moment of weakness we reached out for one another. One thing led to another – and something happened that you probably wouldn't want to hear, and we fell in love."

Hermione looked at Draco, obviously straining to understand.

"Draco, it doesn't add up – none of it."

"Doesn't add up?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head firmly.

"You can't just add it up like a column of figures."

"You can't?" she said, playfully, mocking his intensity.

"Granger, understand one thing," he said and paused.

"Yeah what's that?" she continued.

"Love – it never adds up."

‡‡‡‡‡

After dinner, Draco struggled with the huge task of explaining to Hermione how the two of them 'hooked up'. For the most part, Hermione simply listened and occasionally asked a questioned or two. For all his efforts the blonde headed wizard was never able to connect any switches or turn any lights and Hermione could remember none of it. With her encouragement he abandoned the effort in favor of stories of their schooldays at Hogwarts. They both laughed at the pranks they pulled at school and Hermione did her best to explain how it felt to strike Draco in her third year. Draco laughed until he cried and agreed that their best adventures happened during that year.

As the evening grew very late, the two raconteurs called it quits, and Hermione announced her intention to repose. Draco stayed on the couch, trying his best to look like a lost puppy. Showing no signs of mercy, Hermione disappeared into the narrow corridor and after a number of rummaging sounds, came back with blankets, sheets, and pillows from the cupboard.

"Goodnight Draco," she said in a most uninviting tone. She gently laid the armful of items on the end of the couch and disappeared into her bedroom.

After a full night of sound sleep, Hermione would blink open an eye to notice the morning light flowing into her bedroom. Resting on her side with her head away from the sunlight, she lay there knowing she ought to get up but was completely unable to will her body to move. There were no sounds from outside her room, so she guessed Draco was still sleeping as well.

In a restless moment, she stretched from head to toe, and her foot came to rest on another. In the present state of mind, with slumber still clouding her thoughts, all seemed normal. But something in the back of her mind warned her something was amiss. It didn't take the witch long to realize one important point. It wasn't her own foot! She quickly snapped around to see the blonde headed wizard in her bed, and facing away from her.

"Draco," she yelled. "Merlin's balls – what are you doing here?"

"Huh?" he grunted.

"What are you doing in my bed?" she went on.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he struggled to sit up. Hermione did the same and then glanced down to check whether she had bothered with pajamas. To her relief, she had.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "You were having bad dreams again. I came in to check on you – that's all."

"And you just jumped in?"

"Sure, the couch was cold. Hey nothing happened. Okay?"

"Get out! Just get out. Please."

Slowly, Draco wheeled his feet out from under the covers and struggled to his feet. He was standing there in just his Y-fronts with a perturbed expression.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his blonde hair a crumpled mess.

"Look," she went on. "Promise me you won't come into my bedroom again – until you're invited."

"Whatever." Came the unconvincing reply as he moved toward the door.

"Promise!" she demanded.

"I promise."

‡‡‡‡‡

For the rest of the weekend, Draco was as good as his word. Hermione was resolved to make the best of it, but in spite of all their efforts, it still felt like she was sharing her flat with an out of town guest. She would ask herself, whenever alone, how on earth she ever got mixed up with this man. As bizarre as it felt, she guessed that somewhere there had to be an answer.

They continued to eat quiet meals at home while he regaled her with stories from their past. And as Draco appeared to be amused by his own stories, she failed to be moved by them. Several times he would forget their arrangement and instinctively reach out for her, only to have her recoil away.

On the morning Hermione was to return to work, their luck at cohabitation almost ran out. When she got out of bed she could hear Draco was already in the shower. Throwing on a dressing gown, she went into the kitchen to start coffee. She had just turned the corner to her bedroom when she nearly ran into Draco waltzing out of the shower with a towel around his neck. He grabbed her by the shoulders to avoid a collision. She involuntarily looked down to see he was standing there completely starkers with his manhood swinging freely. Stunned, Hermione let out a little scream and did a dancer's spin on the ball of her foot and ducked into her room.

She waited over breakfast until Draco finally came out dressed.

"We need to talk," she demanded.

"Sure Granger – bout what?"

"You know about what. I'm still trying to figure out how we got together in the first place and you bounce out of the shower starkers. I'm not ready for that and it feels weird."

Draco sucked in a deep breath.

"It's not easy for me either Granger. You're not the only one suffering here."

"I know Draco," she said and dropped her head. "I appreciate the effort you've made – I really do, but I don't think this is working out."

"Not working out? Hell – you're not working at it at all," he persisted.

"I am – really. Just not at the same speed you are," she said and smiled.

"So what's on your mind then?"

She shook and bowed her head.

"I'm not sure about this – us living together."

Draco thought about this briefly before firing back.

"You know what Hippocrates said – and you're not trying Hermione. Look – in the future I'll try to be mindful of your feeling, but I think we should keep working at this and I won't apologize for this morning."

"Oh yeah, and why not?" she asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Because at one time Granger, this was a part of our life together. I'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but it also might help you remember."

"Look – no more shows Draco. It's my way or else on this."

"Okay, okay – ease up Granger. I'll play by your rules. But you don't have to be such a hard-arse. You could try being a bit warmer and more pleasant sometimes."

"Define warmer, please."

"If I reach for you, don't be so damn quick to pull away."

"Well, why are you reaching for me?"

Draco pulled a mock face.

"It's just a natural thing – an act of kindness and warmth."

Hermione squinted her eyes and wiggled her nose.

"You know, it would be kinder if you didn't."

And with that remark, she spun on one heel and turned to leave. She looked deadly serious, but Draco could see the bushy haired witch grin as she breezed through the door.


	5. A Trip Down Memory Lane

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**5. A Trip Down Memory Lane**

Back at work now, Hermione was feeling a bit like a fifth wheel. She was nowhere near her old self, but it felt good to be back. It felt like progress. And if it was real improvement then it was the first she'd made since the accident. As patiently as she'd listened to Draco regale her with stories of their past, she'd failed to remember anything from any of them. After being cooped up with the wizard for a weekend, it felt good to be away. If only for a day. Looking over her desk, it was piled with get-well cards, letters, and notes from the hospital and a few flowers that were turning brown.

Knocking out the thank-you notes had been a snap and she had finished within an hour. Great – more progress. She also sent thank-you notes for the flowers that had turned brown and answered a few more letters before putting the quill away to massage sore fingers. Sucking in a deep breath, she wondered what to do next. A walk! A good walk around the Ministry should help. She taped a hastily fashioned note on the door, and made her way toward the corridors and halls of the Ministry.

After wandering aimlessly for some time, Hermione felt a nostalgic pull toward the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and her old office. The tiny office was practically empty now and for reasons she could not completely understand she drifted surreptitiously toward the Auror office. Tentatively, she approached Harry's cubicle to find the wizard hard at work solving a crossword from the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Pausing silently behind the wizard, he must have sensed something and he snapped around to see her standing there.

"Hermione!" he greeted, and she smiled. "How are you?"

"Just fine," she replied. "Not bad at all."

"I heard you were out of the hospital. Didn't expect you back to work," he went on and threw the crossword into a pile by his desk.

Hermione nodded. "I was ready to get out of the house and it feels good to be back."

"Well, it's good to have you back."

"Thanks."

There was a rustling from further back in the office, and she turned to face the ginger-haired figure emerging timorously from the back of the cube farm. The wizard paused and they looked at one another for several moments.

"Hello Ron."

"Good to see you Hermione."

Hermione looked as if she was trying to speak but didn't.

"Are back to your old self, then?" he asked.

Again, she took a deep breath but remained mute.

"Ron – could I have a word?" she finally asked.

Ron stood there like a deer in headlights.

"Sure," he said at length and Hermione glanced toward Harry.

"Take my seat Hermione – I need to find Kingsley anyway," Harry said cheerfully as he rose and made a play of checking his watch.

Hermione thanked him with a smile. She fell into Harry's chair and Ron slid another over from a nearby cubicle. There was an uncomfortable silence before Hermione broke it.

"This is weird, I know," she managed. Ron shook his head.

"No, it's okay Hermione – really it's fine."

"I don't want to interrupt anything you're working on. I just needed to talk. We can wait till later if..."

"No, I wasn't busy and it's good to see you by the way."

"Thanks."

Ron began wringing his hands, nervously.

"I wanted to come by the hospital – I wanted to but I..."

"That's okay Ron. You didn't miss much," she injected and smiled.

"Well, all the same..."

Hermione smiled and bowed her head.

"Ron, I need to talk," she went on and Ron's happy face began to express grave concern.

"Sure Hermione – bout what?"

"Us – everything. I can't remember a damn thing."

"That much eh – where do we start?"

"With us, I guess. Don't suppose you'd know how I got involved with Draco?"

Ron took a deep breath and looked around the room.

"What does Malfoy say? Have you asked him?"

"Look, Ron – I've spent most of my life mistrusting and despising the man. Now they say we were married, but I don't remember any of it. I've tried to talk to him, really I have, but after what I've been through it's difficult to believe any of it."

"I understand, but Hermione..."

"Yes Ron?"

"Ginny's back from a Quidditch tournament, and Mum's having a bit of a do at the house. Why don't you come by," he said and looked around the Auror office. "This is no place..."

"Yeah, hey you're right Ron. I shouldn't have unloaded all this on you here – I should be going," she replied and turned toward the door.

"Hermione," he said and she stopped.

"I wish you'd come. Ginny and the family would love to see you."

"I shouldn't Ron. I really shouldn't. Things are difficult enough now."

"Difficult – how?"

"I ought to be getting back."

Ron smiled as if the message was finally sinking in.

"Just send Malfoy an Owl – tell him you're out with Ginny," he pleaded. "And Harry will be there too, by the way."

Hermione looked away – weighing the invitation.

"What time?" she finally asked.

"Six o'clock," he said, half asking, half telling.

She nodded little nods.

"Okay, I'll try."

"Good, I'll tell Mum to expect you."

‡‡‡‡‡

"Hermione, it's so good to see you," Molly said and ran up to give Hermione a huge hug. It seemed like Molly was always the first to greet you at the Burrow.

"Well, it's good to see you too."

Molly pulled away to arms length to check Hermione out.

"Well, you look a bit peaky my dear, but from what you've been through... we're just happy to have you."

"It's so good to be here."

"ARTHUR! Come and see Hermione," she hollered into the sitting room.

Arthur struggled out of his easy chair and into the kitchen.

"Oh Hermione," he greeted. "So happy to hear you're up and about now," Arthur said with a warm smile, then shook his head, disapprovingly. "New policies will be put in place after this accident. You can be assured of that."

"I'm sure they will. It was my fault really – should have been more careful."

Arthur raised an index finger to plead a point.

"That's another matter – but those doors should have been locked."

"I'm sure it will never happen again."

Arthur concurred with deep nods.

"Everything back to normal now dear?" he asked and furrowed a brow.

"Not quite," she replied. "I lost a lot of memories and I'm as thin as a rail."

"Well, I wouldn't worry. I'm sure the memories will come back in time, and Molly can put the weight back on tonight," he added with a smile. "Ginny should be down shortly."

"Thank you sir."

Arthur smiled kindly and ambled off in the direction of his easy chair.

Molly had returned to the kitchen leaving Hermione free to roam about. For a while, after her and Ron broke up, she wondered if she'd ever see the Burrow again. It was always brought a warm feeling to her heart whenever she came back. She had always felt a bit of the odd egg growing up in a non-magical family and was never exactly sure how she 'fit in'. All these problems were forgotten with the first step into the Burrow, where the love of magic was everywhere, and its discussion ruled over every meal. In this environment Hermione always felt a part of something big and wonderful.

Light and rapid footsteps down the stairs would have to belong to Ginny.

"Hermione!"

"Gin!"

"Sup girl – couldn't believe it when Ron said you were coming," she exclaimed and ran up to hug her best friend.

"I know – I'm as surprised as you are," she replied and laughed.

"Well I'm glad you're here. Care to sit outside?"

"Sure."

Ginny led Hermione to the outdoor picnic table and chairs behind the house. After the war, Ginny and Ron stayed home all summer to make improvements around the house. It was really a disguised effort to nurse Molly and George through hard times, and the outdoor table and chairs were the result of that project. Generally shaded from the afternoon sun, it was a cooler place in general, and they often sat there on summer evenings and regaled each other with stories from the day.

"Ron tells me you're back at work," Ginny said and kicked one leg over the bench and then the other.

"Yeah. It felt good to get back," she replied and sat facing Ginny.

"So how are things – better?" Ginny asked, obviously alluding to all her troubles.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "Not so good really. I'm afraid things are about the same."

Ginny reached out and took her friends hand.

"Hey," she said and looked her in the eyes. "You have all the time in the world – so make the best of it."

Hermione laughed. "I'll try... so Ron says you lot won a tournament!"

"Yeah, we did finally. The girls all played their arses off – every one of them, and we beat the Ballycastle Bats to do it."

"That's great Gin. Really!"

"It's been a long time since the Harpies beat the Bats. It felt great – really good."

"Is this a private party?" asked a familiar voice and both girls snapped around.

"Harry," they chorused.

Harry grabbed a seat on the bench, snuggling close to Ginny. He ran his nose playfully close to her hair and breathed deeply. She recoiled teasingly as if offended. Moments later, Ron approached the table and paused to size up the best place to sit. Obviously puzzled, he plopped down awkwardly beside Ginny. Ginny gave him a look like she always did after he had committed a faux pas.

"So how was your first day back," Harry asked after being playfully rebuked by Ginny.

Hermione laughed. "I felt totally worthless. Signed thank-you cards most of the morning."

"Wouldn't let it bother me," replied Harry. "The Ministry is bad enough as it is – hey Ron?"

"Ginny's got it made," added Ron. "Sometimes, I think if I had it to do over Quidditch wouldn't be so bad."

"GINNY..." Molly hollered around the corner, "time to set the table."

Grudgingly, Ginny rose to leave.

"You'd think I wouldn't have to do this," she teased. "It is my party – right?"

Looking around, Harry realized he was quickly becoming the third man out.

"Better see what I can do to help," he moaned and took off after Ginny.

Ron shifted his weight restlessly and looked about the orchard as if seeing it for the first time.

"Look – Ron," began Hermione. "You don't owe me any explanation of the past and it was unfair of me to ask."

"No, that's not true Hermione. I owe you because you've been through an accident. I just don't know how to tell you – that's all."

"Oh... well just give it your best shot."

"Okay, you see..."

About this time Ginny poked her head around the edge of the house.

"Hey you two – it's time to eat."

Molly had outdone herself. There sitting on the table was a huge Sunday roast encircled with roast potatoes, onions, and carrots. Pumpkin juice and Ginger beer were available from two pitchers. A small mountain of yeast rolls, as light as a feather, were sitting at head of he table. From a few levels above, heavy footsteps clomping down the stairs announced George.

"It's about time," Molly snapped.

"Have I missed anything?" he retorted.

Molly gave him a dirty look and then set about the task of seating her guests. She made sure Ron sat next to Ginny. She put Hermione in Fred's old place and let everyone else fend for themselves after Arthur took his seat at the head of the table. After the drinks were filled, George lifted his glass to propose a toast.

"Here's to another great Quidditch tournament," he announced and everyone chorused the toast.

"You up for a speech Ginny?" he added.

"I'll wait till we win the League Cup," she announced and everyone chimed in.

"This looks great Molly."

"Thank you – let me get you the carving knife," replied Molly to Arthur and handed him the knife.

"You working on anything exciting Harry?"

"Not at the moment," Harry replied while dishing out a roasted potato. "What about you George – anything new for next school term?"

"Yeah, a new improved version of the cordless extendable ears will be coming in this year."

"Really, that ought to be a big seller," replied Harry.

"Those things have always done well," injected Ron with a mouthful of bread.

"Where do you get those things George?" Hermione piped in.

"Ying Yang Distributors. Yeah, it's a wizarding shop in China. They can make em by the tons."

That drew a few amused looked from around the table and then the conversation began to dwindle as Arthur began carve and serve the roast. Throughout the meal no one asked why Hermione was there and not home with Malfoy. The Weasleys all loved Hermione and were just happy to have her there under any conditions. When most thought the meal was over, Molly pulled her last surprise and served Treacle Tarts, which was always Harry's favorite.

Feeling stuffed, they all gathered to personally congratulated Molly on a tremendous success. At first, everyone drifted into the sitting room to resume the kitchen line of conversation. They pretended not to notice Hermione and Ron disappear. Back outside by the orchard table, Ron became a little more direct.

"Wasn't trying to avoid your questions. I just wanted to think about them. That's fair isn't it?"

"For sure Ron, but how much thought does it take?"

"I didn't want to incriminate myself."

"Oh, I see. It was that bad, huh?"

"I'll let you be the judge, but I'll tell you the truth. You probably need it more than ever now."

"I appreciate that."

"It was Malfoy – why we quarreled. I think you probably guessed that."

"Yes. I did. But how did I get involved with him?"

"I can only tell you what I know."

"Well, of course..."

"It was that case officer thing. You were supposed to just fill in for Beverly, but Kingsley turned it all over to you – because you were doing such a great job."

"That's nice to know."

"Malfoy was to report to you. In your office at first – then over lunch. At first it was in the canteen. But then later, you two were going out for lunch. That started the gossip rolling – I can tell you that."

"I can imagine."

Ron nodded and then grimaced as if it pained him to go further.

"You two were getting quite friendly, then you had some kind of a row, I think. It was over that Rita Skeeter picture."

"We fought over a picture?"

"You two were caught kissing," he replied and reflected pure disgust, "and the picture found it's way to her column. Kingsley and the governors were angry as hell about it. And, you stopped seeing Malfoy... I think that's how it went."

"And then you got pissed at me." she said, as a matter of fact.

"No, you got pissed at me," he corrected and smiled.

"This is mental – why?"

Ron took a deep breath.

"Draco decided to quit the public service duty and do his time in Azkaban..."

"Why the hell did he do that?"

"It was something between you two – hell, I don't know. Well, anyway – you were going to let him sweat it out a bit. Maybe you were trying to see if he would really do it. You told the officers in the detention area to send you a note before they took him. I guess you were planning to do something."

"Okay... so why was I pissed at you?"

"You never got the note. Oldowe gave it to me to give to you..."

"And you never did – did you?"

"No, I kept the note."

"So then what happened?"

"Nothing much. Oldowe hauled him off to Azkaban but never took him in. Oh, he scared him a bit, I think. But he never took him in. They said you took off with two house-elves to find him. And I guess you did."

Hermione sighed and then reflected regret.

"That's some story Ron. Is it true?"

"Yes – every damn bit. I did something I shouldn't have that day. It could have turned out very bad for Malfoy, but it turned out worse for me I think," he lamented. "But I wanted to do the right thing tonight. I wanted to tell you what really happened."

"I appreciate that Ron. I really do."

"Hermione," he said and paused. "I've often regretted what I did, and I've missed you every day since then. If things between..."

"Ron," she stopped him. "Please don't – and don't apologize."

"But I want to. I never got a chance before."

"It's done and over Ron. But it may help me put things together."

"With you and Malfoy," he asked with disgust.

"I have to know why I did what I did."

"This didn't explain it?" he asked.

"Well, it helps – but, it doesn't tell me why I ever felt anything for him."

"What do you feel now?" Ron queried.

This hit Hermione like an emotional punch in the gut and she began to cry.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean..."

"It's not your fault," she said and looked around for something to dry her tears but found nothing. "What do I feel?" she added. "It's pretty twisted."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said and stepped closer to Ron. The ensuing kiss was very sweet and a little salty from all the tears.

:

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**A/N: **Helpful input from yourLastLove and grats for the new favs and follows.

For those that are feeling real pain for Draco - try and hold on a little longer. :)

Don't forget to review and Thanks for reading...


	6. Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

**A/N: **Great comment**s** from Chester99, Dancing-Souls, and puddleinthefloor. Grats for the new favs and follows.

This is a short chapter, but poignant - another my follow shortly.

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**6. Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble**

"Madam, Miss Astoria is calling," croaked the house-elf.

"Well, show her in Gilbert," barked Narcissa, "and make sure you bring tea and cakes."

"Yes Madam – Gilbert will," he replied and scampered off with his large spatulate feet slapping the marble floors.

At the sound of soft footfalls, Narcissa looked up from her reading to see the witch that had barely missed being her daughter in law. Gracefully she rose to greet Astoria, who possessed a delicate if not anemic beauty.

"Astoria," Narcissa greeted, "have a seat dear." She smiled warmly and pointed to a chair. "I was so happy to receive your Owl."

"Thank you Narcissa – how are things?"

"Well, much of the same, but let's talk about you – how's Daphne and your family?"

"Just fine – they're all just fine."

"Well, you must give them my warmest regards."

"I'll do that."

"And you look so nice today Astoria," she said and smiled warmly. "Absolutely radiant."

"As always, you're too kind Narcissa."

"Not at all – so eager to hear of your news dear," Narcissa added.

Astoria took a full breath and adjusted the layers of chiffon in her gown. She was about to speak when Gilbert came in rattling a large tray of tea and cakes. Narcissa looked aggravated at the timing but maintained her composure in front of Astoria.

"Hurry Gilbert – please," encouraged Narcissa. The house-elf hastily laid out the cups, sugar, and cream, and then uncovered the tea cakes and poured the tea before Narcissa had a reason to be angry. Finally, when the two women were dressing the tea, Narcissa encouraged Astoria to continue.

"So, you were about to speak Astoria..."

"Yes," she said and paused. "I was speaking with Blaise – you know Blaise Zabini, a school friend of Draco's?"

Narcissa nodded. "Yes, of course. His mother is very wealthy."

"Yes, that's the one. Well, he mentioned he'd run into Draco and they had a little talk over a few drinks..."

"That's fortuitous."

"Yes," Astoria continued. "It seems Draco has a few problems with his new wife."

"You don't say..."

Astoria nodded deeply. "Yes, I do. It seems she's had an accident at the Ministry," she said and took a sip of tea.

"Really – what kind of accident?" Narcissa asked, peaked with curiosity.

"I don't know what exactly – but Blaise says she's lost her memory – at least her memory of Draco. She doesn't even remember how the two of them got hooked up."

Narcissa fell back with a look of deep satisfaction. "Well, it serves her right, if you want my opinion."

"Serves her right?"

"Yes, it does," Narcissa fired back. "I always thought she used some charm or spell on Draco. Well, it may have backfired. Draco would have never ran off with a girl like that, if he was thinking clearly. There's just no way."

"Well, it never made any sense – that's for sure."

"Not a bit," Narcissa added. "This whole thing has been so unlike Draco."

"There's more..."

"Prey tell my dear."

"Blaise said they're having financial difficulties."

"I'm not surprised. Draco came by the other day for money."

"Well apparently, Draco told Blaise that unless Hermione gets a raise at work, they won't be able to hold on."

"Really..." Narcissa added, with a nefarious grin.

"Yes. Unless the governors approve her raise, Kingsley is powerless to give her more."

"Well, then Draco would be forced to move back home..." she said. "And on _my_ terms."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Astoria, with a trace of hope.

"Of course there is – and don't you worry my dear. I still have a few connections with governors and with a little luck we'll have Draco back home and hopefully out of this witch's spell. Now in the mean time – you keep your ears peeled for any new developments."

"I'll do that Narcissa. I hope we can help Draco – if it is a spell, I mean."

"I'm sure it is, and I know we will," she said and placed her hand on Astoria's hand for assurance. "I'll expect your Owl if you hear anything – but if not, when shall we two meet again?"

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A/N: Thanks for reading...


	7. Hippocrates

A/N: As promised, another chapter...

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**7. Hippocrates**

"It's been weeks now – and she still doesn't remember anything."

Hippocrates ran his fingers first over his bald head and then through his grey beard as he pondered the situation.

"Draco, it's only natural for you to be a little impatient..."

"I'm trying not to be," the blonde wizard injected.

"...yes, but you are. I remember telling you, as you sat in that very chair, that her memory could take some time to return. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," he answered, reluctantly. "But I've been sleeping on the couch for three weeks..."

"Yes, yes, yes... you thought that things would be back to normal in no time. But I want you to listen very carefully..."

Draco sulked but didn't reply.

"It's not your fault that you can't pull it out of her – and it's not her fault she can't remember. The last thing you want is your wife feeling guilty over what she can't remember. Do you understand?"

"Yes," came the short clipped answer.

"Draco – do you?" repeated Hippocrates.

"I'll try," he said and Hippocrates shot back an angry look.

"You must do more than try Draco."

"I will."

"Good, and I think another tack would be your wisest choice. From now on – no more questions of a past she can't remember. Do you understand?"

"But how will we ever sort things out?"

"Draco – no more pressuring her with direct questions – is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. You'll have more luck tickling the past out of her."

"What does that mean?" asked Draco, sourly.

"Try and re-create the mood that got you two together to start with. With no pressure – no demands."

Draco shook his head, helplessly.

"That's like going all the way back to the beginning," Draco lamented.

"At least you still have her Draco – be thankful for that."

Draco's head shot up.

"I am – I really am. Just wish I could help – that's all."

"You are Draco. You're doing the best you can son," Hippocrates said softly.

"When we spoke last week – we were discussing a job," said Draco.

"Yes, yes, yes, we were," he replied and paused. "And I'm still trying to find you something. An orderly position is bound to turn up."

"Oh good. That would be great."

"Don't worry Draco. Hopefully something will turn up in a few weeks."

"Well, again, thanks for considering me. If I don't find something and Hermione doesn't get a raise we'll be out on the streets."

‡‡‡‡‡

Days later, Hermione was still puzzled, trying to understand why she'd kissed Ron. It just felt right at the moment, and that was all she could ever sort out. It had nothing to do with Draco and little to do with Ron. No, It was like reaching out to a familiar soul while drowning in an ocean of lost memories. Still, she regretted it and truly hoped it didn't give the wizard new hopes of winning her back . She was married to Draco Malfoy, and as difficult as that was to comprehend she would stay the course and try and figure out she arrived at this particular juncture in her life. Their little agreement on living arrangements was still working according to plan. A plan that was entirely her own – but the man was growing impatient and she could feel it. He wanted her as a wife, in every way, but that was something her heart wasn't ready for. At least, not yet.

Nearly at the window of Purge and Dowse, she looked around quickly for any onlookers and seeing none, ducked quickly through the magical portal to St. Mungo's. With the coast clear, she entered the hospital through the wide glass doors and approached the young receptionist in the foyer.

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you."

"How can I help you?"

"I'm Hermione Granger and I have an appointment with Hippocrates Smethwyck."

The receptionist smiled and looked up at the clock on the wall and then thumbed through the pages of her appointment book. She looked confused and rolled her shoulders into a shrug.

"I've got a Hermione Malfoy at ten o'clock," she said, half telling and half asking.

Hermione froze as if unable to comprehend what the girl had said.

"Is that you miss?" the girl asked with an expression of concern.

Still unable to answer, Hermione felt as if she'd been slapped. She _was_ Hermione Malfoy. The reality of the situation was finally drawing near. It was no matter what she could or couldn't remember. Although she didn't have the foggiest clue how it had happened, the world saw her as Hermione Malfoy.

‡‡‡‡‡

There was a shy knock on the door and the receptionist from the foyer peeped in. Hippocrates made a signal for her to enter and she dropped a small note on his desk, smiled and immediately left the room. Hippocrates quickly glanced at the note and sat it down.

"Draco, did you know your wife has an appointment this morning?"

"No, it slipped my mind, really."

"Well... I'll see what I can do to help," he said curled the corner of his mouth into a grin. "With all your problems," he added. "You better slip out the back. We wouldn't want Hermione to think we're working together behind her back."

"Isn't that what we're doing?" Draco retorted.

"Well, perhaps, but if Hermione would just get on with the business of life, it would make all of ours a little easier. Wouldn't you say?"

Draco grinned and allowed Hippocrates to show him out the back way.

‡‡‡‡‡

"Hermione – come in," Hippocrates greeted warmly and motioned toward the large chair in front of his desk.

"Morning sir," she replied with a fragile voice and fell into the large chair. Hippocrates made a show of examining papers in hand before turning attention back to Hermione.

"So, Hermione – how is your recovery coming along?"

"Slow."

"Slow?"

"Yes sir, slow as in 'very little to no progress'."

"I see," he replied and pulled glasses off to rest his eyes. "Are you referring to your memory?"

"Of course sir – what else is there?"

"Lot's of things. Your health for one. Are there no other side effects, other than memory?"

"No sir."

"Are you back to work yet?"

"Yes, I am."

"And how's that going?"

"Well, I'm far from being my old self, but overall I'd say very good."

With that bit of news, the grey haired healer smiled warmly.

"That's good to hear. It really is," he said and placed a finger to his temple. "And how are things with Draco?"

Hermione paused, letting the question float in the air for a moment. Finally she nodded.

"Pretty good."

"I see. Hermione – I don't wish to pry – at least not for the sake of prying, but could you elaborate on pretty good."

"Sir?"

"Your relationship with Draco was an important part of your former life as it should be with your present life. I was just wondering how things are going on that front?"

"Pretty good."

Hippocrates rolled his eyes and smiled as if he anticipated the answer.

"Hermione, a bit more direct - are you two fully functional as husband and wife?"

Hermione dropped her head for a moment and then rose to meet Hippocrates, eye to eye.

"No. Not yet."

"So... then things are not so good."

"But, it's only been a couple of weeks. I'm still trying to get to know the guy," she protested.

Hippocrates raised a hand in surrender.

"I understand Hermione – you're an intelligent girl. It would be only normal for you to want to... be able to retrace your footsteps and get your feet on the ground... so to speak. But unfortunately, we don't know how much of your memory will return, and there could be other difficulties," he added with a grave expression.

"Other difficulties. Hell, what could be worse than this?"

"Several things actually. There could be a regression in your case..."

"What kind of regression?"

"To a situation worse than the one you find yourself in now. What I'm referring to, is your long term capacity to experience love Hermione."

Hermione swallowed hard but remained firm.

"And just what can I do about that?"

"Not allow it to happen – that's the best way," he replied and Hermione looked puzzled. "You need to allow love back into your life – and as soon as possible," he went on, Hermione shuddered.

"With Draco?"

"He _is_ your husband..."

"Look, I know I'm married to the man. I don't think it truly sunk in until the receptionist called me Hermione Malfoy. So, technically, I can grasp the situation," she said, and drew a deep breath. "But I don't feel it, nor do I remember it. Any of it – do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Of course, and I know it's difficult. Many things feel a little strange at first – but you must get used to them. I know you don't feel like Mrs. Malfoy yet, but perhaps if you just try it on for size? Please Hermione, don't let a lack of memory destroy what you have now. And don't let this situation fester into something worse."

"You make waiting sound so ominous," she pleaded.

"You're fighting it Hermione. Stop fighting – that's all."

And for the second time in so many weeks, Hermione was sitting in the chair opposite Hippocrates desk with her face in her hands.

"I'll try," she said, speaking through her hands in a muffled voice.

"I know you will Hermione, and I know you'll be the better for it."

:

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A/N: Grats for the new favs and follows, and thanks for reading - don't forget to review...


	8. A New Day

**A/N:** Just had to rework this chapter. After re-reading, it seemed a little weak, especially after Hermione and Draco have not been together in the last two chapters. It needed to be more punchy – more visceral.

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**8. A New Day  
**

_The witch lay on top of him. Rays of morning light were streaming into their bedroom but he could see none of it. Granger's unclipped bushy hair was spilling about the pillow and covered his face. Her lips just inches from his, she was almost pulling the air out of his lungs. Their breaths were rhythmic now and coming in gasps. Mint __sweetened_ breath and hair tinged with perfume. His senses were of her and nothing else as their bodies undulated in a cadence that matched their gasps for air. He was light-headed now and unable to hold on. Yes he had to hold on, but he losing the fight and his grip...

"Draco!"

He heard his name called and tried to answer – but he couldn't.

"Draco – what the hell?"

He felt something tugging at him – it was reality calling, and having a hard time getting through. He finally awoke, not fully but enough to realize he laying on the couch and recovering from a dream. Shaking the sense back into his head he rubbed his eyes and then focused on Hermione standing in the entryway and looking most peculiar.

"Oh, sorry. Must have had a dream."

"Ooookay. No problem," she said and entered the kitchen. "I'll put on the coffee."

Draco struggled to sit up. His head was still spinning.

"Can you get the paper?" she asked.

He didn't answer but got up to reach for the dressing gown on the hook nearby. The thin material in his pajama bottoms didn't hide the nature of his dream.

"Must have been a good one," she quipped.

"Huh," he replied with a thick tongue and then thought to look down. He quickly yanked the gown together and disappeared. A minute or two later he was back with the morning edition of the Daily Prophet wrapped in a sleeve to hide any magical animations from Muggle eyes. He untied the string and pulled the paper out of it's sleeve. The smell of fresh coffee was already filling the kitchen.

"I'll finish dressing," she said and left the room rather quickly.

"Fine," Draco responded coolly.

In a few minutes he got up and helped himself to a cup of coffee. The paper was pretty much the same old news redressed for a different week. The Ministry was still in need of employees to fill it's ranks. The war had thinned their numbers to a dangerous low. Rita Skeeter's new column, Quick Quill Quotes, was as overly dramatic as always and just as useless. He had always hated Rita as the Malfoys seemed to be one of her favorite targets. There was another article complaining about the levels of wizarding gold dropping in relation to the Muggle variety.

He heard the bedroom door open and Hermione tentatively poked her head into the kitchen. Weeks after the accident she still came across as a little stiff and formal. She immediately went to the coffee and returned to the table cradling a large mug of piping brew.

There were several moments of awkward silence before Hermione broke it.

"I also had a dream," she announced boldly. "... this morning. And not long before yours,"

He looked her in the eyes.

"Oh really – was I in it?"

"Yes you were. I dreamed my teeth had grown down to my chin – it was after you deflected that Densaugeo hex that Harry intended for you. You remember?"

"Oh well, sorry about that. Is that all you remember of me?"

"Well, not all of course – I remember the time Ron heard you say 'I hope Granger is next' in reference to..."

"Okay. Okay. I get the message," he broke her off. "I get what you're trying to say."

"I'm sorry Draco. But I'm afraid my dreams are far different than yours."

Draco dropped his head in defeat and then looked up abruptly.

"Do you think they'll ever be the same, our dreams?"

Hermione shook her head and reached for Draco's hand.

"I don't know – I really don't."

Draco nodded and just sat there quiet and enjoying the touch of her hand.

"Hey, what's in the news today," she asked to change the conversation.

"Would you care to see it?" he asked and folded the paper into a quarter sized form and offered it up.

"That boring huh?"

He inhaled deeply and settled back in his chair. He could make out scented soap or maybe a slight trace of perfume. Trying hard to look normal, he was sure his pupils were dilating twice their size as he did his best to stifle any animal impulses.

"It's the same old stuff, dressed up for another day. The Ministry is still looking for Aurors and Rita Skeeter is hammering some poor new victim."

She noticed the dressing gown and his messy blonde hair flying in all directions.

"There ought be enough hot water for another shower," she mentioned.

"For sure," he said sadly, remembering the Saturday mornings when they took a shower together. He was suddenly swept with a wave of disappointment and wondered if that would ever happen again and then quickly dispelled the thought.

"Do I smell?" he asked, playfully.

"_Not from here_," she replied, with equal levity.

She was dressed this morning in worn comfy jeans, trainers, and a snug tee shirt. Her bushy brown hair was gathered with a clip behind her with the ends fanning out down to her shoulders. He spent several moments trying to guess her plans for the day but then gave up.

"So what's on the agenda today?" he asked.

"Don't know for sure. You have anything in mind?"

"Well yeah."

"Yeah," she replied and gave him her complete attention. "What?"

"Spending the day with my wife – can I do that?"

She paused for a moment then nodded.

"You won't like it," she replied at length.

"Oh, so you do have plans, then."

"Well, if you don't have any objections, I thought of stopping at bookstores in Diagon Alley," she replied and canted her head with a smile.

"Sounds great!" he lied through his teeth and she looked at him suspiciously.

"I'll fix breakfast while you take a shower," she stated got up from the table.

"Is that what you're wearing?" he asked, eyeing the jeans and tee.

She turned and shrugged. "Sure – what's wrong with it?."

He threw his hands up in surrender. "It's fine."

He dressed down as casually as a Malfoy could, and with her hand in his they disapparated from the deserted alley behind the flat and resumed corporeal form in a little alley just short of the Leaky Cauldron. Once aware of their surroundings, she immediately pulled her hand away from his. They quickly made their way through the dimly lit and smokey pub and entered Diagon Alley through the brick portal. The Alley was bustling with activity on this Saturday morning with vendor carts clacking on cobblestone and foot traffic everywhere. With school out of term many of the shoppes were flying sale signs to drum up business. For a moment he thought he saw Astoria with another guy and almost knocked down a tall stack of sparkling new cauldrons in front of a kitchenware shoppe.

"Damn..." he cursed and they continued down the alley toward Flourish and Blott's. As they entered the doorway his hand came to rest on her side as he played the courteous escort. She was so excited to be entering the bookstore, he didn't think she noticed.

"So what are we looking for?" he asked.

"Just looking," came the short and sweet reply.

After a few minutes of browsing around the shop, she grabbed a couple volumes from a nearby bestseller rack and turned to him as if to say, _now what the hell are you gonna do? _Feeling like an intrusion he followed her to a nearby reading table in a small sunlit area with a bay window. She immediately began thumbing through the book and then glanced at him dismissively as if he were a fifth wheel.

"What _are_ you doing," she finally asked.

He shrugged at the question. "Watching you."

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Now would seem like the appropriate time."

"Have we done this in the past?"

He shook his head. "No."

"I didn't think so. One more question then?"

"Sure."

"Do you read?"

Draco screwed his face to the question. "When I have to."

"But not for fun?"

"Of course not," he replied as if she had asked the strangest of questions.

"Well, then – why'd you come?"

"To be with you – of course."

"Well, it's hard to read with someone watching you."

"I'll try not to look," he said and frowned.

"I can think of something better," she said, shaking her head and leaving the table. She came back in a few minutes with a volume in hand. She slid the book across the table in his direction. The title read, _Wizarding Employment Guide._

"Just what I was looking for," he said, facetiously and grudgingly opened the book. He pretended to read for nearly an hour before he finally gave up and actually started reading it.

_A well written cover letter, in the finest penmanship, is crucial to obtaining interviews for the best wizarding positions. An outline approach with emphasis on previous experience is very helpful in catching the employer's eye. If experience is scant, list as many school projects and organizational clubs and examples of leadership as the candidate may have been a part of. Never be shy about mentioning examples of leadership, and always use as many actions words as may be appropriate to describe your work..._

Draco found the book boring to the extreme. Occasionally, while appearing to be reading he would look up to check Granger out. As simple as she was dressed, she did look quite fetching this morning. The tee shirt was a little thin and he amused himself by gauging the length and definition of her pokies for any clue as to whether or not she was wearing a bra. Several times, she looked up the catch his eye and he would duck under the employment guide and go back to play-reading.

Finally, she stood up, stretched, and looked around the room and then focused at him critically.

"How's the reading coming along?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"You ready to go then?"

"Yeah."

She laughed. For the first time he could remember after the accident, she had laughed. He kept his fingers crossed and considered it progress.

"But there's a couple of other places I'd like to check out," she announced, sternly.

"Not bookstores I hope?"

"Well yes – if that's not a problem," she said as if she could care less if it was a problem.

"I'd be delighted."

Draco trudged beside the fast moving witch as they proceeded down Diagon Alley toward Obscurus Books, which was Hermione's second favorite store. Obscurus was really more of a publisher, but they always had a fine selection on hand, she informed him. Once inside, Hermione went scrounging for books while Draco found a place to sit. She came back with a double arm load and with no table to lay them on, she tossed them all in Draco's lap. Draco winced and doubled over a little but said nothing.

"Sorry," she said, sheeplishly. "I was about to drop them."

"That's okay – I never really planned on children anyway."

Hermione squinted. "Sorry," she repeated and began removing the top layer off his lap. The last few, she merely held her hand out demandingly and let him remove them.

"Oh, since you've taken up cooking," she said, and nonchalantly and placed a book on the arm of his chair.

The title read, _Rare Wizarding Recipes. _He gave her a strange look – like he didn't have a clue, but she paid no attention and dove headlong into another volume.

For most of the day she seemed mostly unaware of his presence. He wondered about this and thought of a way to have fun. At one opportune moment, when Hermione went to fetch another book, he snuck off behind a rack on the opposite side of the room. He found an empty space between two missing tomes that gave him a view of the chairs where they'd been sitting.

She returned to the table and stopped to stare at his empty chair. She spun to look about the room for a moment or two and then returned to her seat. He grabbed the nearest book and drifted back to their sitting area and plopped down like nothing had happened.

"Oh, there you are," she said. "Thought you'd left."

"I'd never think of it – but I was getting a little bored."

She lifted her eyes from her book, took a deep breath, and the focused on Draco.

"Hey, you're probably getting pretty tired with all this."

"Oh, I don't know – I've been through worse."

"I say we check out Whizz Hard Books and call it a day."

"Sounds lovely," he managed with a phoney smile.

And so it went. They followed pretty much the same routine at Whizz Hard's with Draco racking his brain for any mischief that would spare him from having to read. With the selection at Whizz Hard's a little 'off today' as Hermione referred to it, she made good her promise to 'call it a day', but only after another full hour or more of sheer torture.

Desperate to get out of the alley and find food and beer, Draco was tested again as Hermione stopped to talk to Alice. Alice was an old hag who sold potpourri and vegetables out of an open cart in various spots along the alley. The old witch was blind and toothless but Hermione always made it a point to stop and talk. She had the most uncanny ability to identify people by the sound of footsteps. Draco found the whole thing repulsive.

Finally tearing her away, they were once again wandering aimlessly down the alley.

"You fancy a drink and something to eat?" Draco asked. With her attention divided between the question and the street, she overlooked a cobblestone loose from it's mooring and almost stumbled. Draco's hand shot around her waist and helped steady her. He let the hand linger and she didn't seem to object.

"I suppose – what do have in mind?"

"Uhmm, we could go somewhere nice – if we go back and change," he replied, and looked at her tee shirt and jeans.

"Or we could eat here on the cheap and save money."

Draco looked a little taken back by this.

"I won't argue with you. How about the Leaky Cauldron?"

"That'll work," she agreed, and they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. First negotiating the brick portal, they stepped inside the dim smokey pub. For years the dirty chimney and flu pulled so poorly that the smokey back-draft was overpowering when you first entered. The continued along with soft lamp lighting and then grabbed a rock hard bench. With reverberating chatter and zero acoustics the place sounded like the Sorting Feast at Hogwarts.

Hannah Abbott, the new proprietor, greeted them with two glasses of cold water. She appeared to be amused at seeing Draco and Hermione together but managed to squelch any funny looks. Quickly taking their drink orders, she left them with a menu and scurried off.

Hermione reached into her over-sized bag and pulled out a book. She handed to Draco.

"I'll let you carry this."

"What it is?" he asked, warily.

"It's the wizarding cookbook."

"Aw, uh – thanks."

"I know you've taken it up – as a bit of a hobby – and you're not too bad," she said, and wrinkled her nose suspiciously.

"Ah yes – eating at home to save money," he said and grinned. "Now I know the reason you're eating what I cook."

Hermione shook her head as if the statement didn't compute. Hannah returned with two frothy mugs and took their food order of soup and sandwiches.

"The remark I made earlier... about eating on the cheap. It just came into my head really – don't know why?"

Draco looked away and didn't respond.

"I mean, you're rich – right. When I try and think of why I married a man I couldn't stand for most of my life – at least I got one thing right," she went on and chuckled.

Draco smiled meekly but remained mute.

"Draco?"

"Yeah..."

"You're giving me that funny look again."

"Am I?"

"You _are_ still rich? Surely that hasn't changed," she went on an uneasy laugh.

He took a deep breath and exhaled all of it. Hannah returned with their order. She placed two steaming bowls down, which consisted of a nice creamy potage, followed with roast beef sandwiches and crisps.

"Well, not exactly," he continued.

"Not exactly? Either you are or you're aren't – isn't that the way it works?"

"Yeah... my family's rich, but I'm out of the family now."

Hermione paused to study the answer.

"Oh... when did this happen?"

"After I married you. Mum – she cut me off."

"Merlin's beard. I should have put two and two together – you were looking for a job and learning to cook?"

"I've been trying to tell you," he admitted with a shrug. "But after the accident, I figured you had enough to worry about."

She paused to take in his comments for a moment or two.

"I wondered how we were getting by. I just assumed you were making up the difference."

Draco's gaze fell to the table.

"I'm working on mother," he said and lifted his head. "But so far, she won't budge. She's angry about me breaking with Astoria. She liked her a lot."

"And marrying a Muggle-born?"

"Yeah – and that too I guess."

A sad silence fell over the table and seemed to expand outward.

"You know I'll never understand. Why _did_ you drop Astoria for me?" she asked, breaking the deathly silence. "I mean – I don't have what she has – and I never will."

"Oh Hermione, please. Not this again. And you have some things she doesn't. Okay?"

"I know I shouldn't be asking. Just the other day Hippocrates told me to stop worrying about the past and get on with life – but how?"

"You just get on with it. That's how."

"You sound just like him," she complained. "I just don't understand it," she went on. "Astoria has the glitz and glamor. And she has the money. You marry a girl against your parents wishes and now we're both broke. It just doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense."

"But I want it too," she said, shaking her head. "And you tell me you love me? I'm struggling to believe that. I'm sorry Draco – it just doesn't add up."

Draco flushed red.

"Damnit Granger. I've told you. Love. It never adds up. Won't you understand – sometimes it never adds up."

:

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A/N: Thanks for reading... and don't forget to review.


	9. An Evening With Friends

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and favs. The story is coming together I think. I'm a chapter outline or two ahead of what's published and the responses to reviews are not automatic. But they do get considered. **

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**9. An Evening With Friends**

"Are you kidding – you are kidding, right?"

"Hell no. Why would I be."

"They're all fucking Gryffindors Granger – that's why."

"Oh you're making a big deal out of nothing. It's been years now."

"It was just a couple. They probably all still hate my guts."

"That's mental – and you know it."

"Look... if you want to go out with your friends – that's fine. But you don't have to drag me along."

"Don't have to drag you along?" she mocked. "It's a couples get together – and you're my husband."

"Oh – I'm your husband now," he added, sullenly.

"That's what you've been telling me," she countered.

"I'm your husband when it's convenient."

"That's not fair," she pleaded and began running fingers through her bushy hair..

"It feels fair – I'll tell you that," he replied, forcefully.

Hermione, realizing the implication, looked away and rolled her eyes.

"Look – I know it's been hard on you," she said and rose from her chair. She went around behind the wizard and threw her arms around his shoulders and spoke into his ear. "It's been hard on me too. But it would help me if you would come. Besides Ron might show up."

‡‡‡‡‡

The 'Station' was a unique club in that it had a U-shaped floor with a band stand at one end and dining and drinks available at the opposite far end. The kitchen was stuck in the middle of the U and provided some insular relief for those that didn't come there for the music. Few came there for the food, but the drinks were good enough and, if you really tried, you could carry on a conversation at the far end.

Luna had stumbled on the place with Neville. The two began dating until after the war when Neville gave up on Luna's eccentricities and started a hot thing with Hannah Abbott, who had taken over the Leaky Cauldron.

Luna barely had the time to notice when she met Rolf Scamander at a preservationist convention for magical creatures. These two offbeats hit it off instantly and made frequent trips about the country while scouring the land in search of rare and magical creatures. Rolf, the grandson of the famous Magizoologist, Newt Scamander, was nearly as well known as his grandfather. It would be Rolf's pretentious personality that would most likely grate on Draco's before the night was over. Also attending, and a potential sore spot for Draco, was Katie Bell. She'd been seeing Seamus Finnegan and still had hard feelings toward Draco for hexing her in her sixth year. Cho Chang had recently broken up with a wizard she'd been seeing for some time and was the only free witch in the group.

Hermione had been dragging Draco all the way and arrived at the club fashionably late. They found the party at the end of the horseshoe farthest from the music.

"There they are," Hermione informed Draco casually.

"_Super_."

"Ginny! Cho!" Hermione called out to her old school chums.

Hermione ran up to the two girls and Luna jumped up to join them. Solemnly, Draco hung a few steps back and looked tactfully around the table for the best place to sit. There were two open seats between Rolf and Seamus Finnegan. A bad choice either way with maybe Finnegan getting the slight edge. There were also a couple of seats at the very end, but he doubted Hermione would go for that. Just as he had imagined, they were all Gryffindors except for Scamander who'd been the hero of Hufflepuff. Oh well, at least there was no sign of the Weasel. He was suspicious Hermione had made that bit up, just to get him there.

Finally done with the greetings and hugs Hermione preceded over to the vacant gap between Finnegan and Scamander. Draco hung there just to see if she would look back for him, but she never did. _Damn, it felt good to be loved._ She greeted Scamander and after a few words she took the seat next to Seamus and said hello to him. Fine, he would be sitting next to Scamander. The evening was shaping just great. After greeting Seamus and Katie, Hermione finally looked around for her missing husband and noticed he'd never moved. She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, _what the hell are you doing over there? _

"Don't be bashful old man," piped in Scamander.

Draco faked a smile and headed toward the empty seat. He hated Scamander and that 'old man' crap of his. Sucking it up, he bit his lip he grabbed the last chair between his wife and the eccentric wizard. Rolf had curly yellow hair, flying in all directions, and Draco always thought his personality was just about the same.

Looking toward his wife and seeing Seamus Finnegan and Katie Bell, he noticed Katie was sending him little hate bombs with her eyes. Oh, well – it was a shame – she'd been friendly enough at one time. Past Seamus and Katie was Ginny Weasley and Potter. Sanctimonious Potter. He quietly presided over the event like royalty looking down over the peasants. And right now he was staring pretty hard at Draco.

"Waiter!" Scamander flagged down the young Sommelier. The young man assented with a smile and returned with glasses for himself and Hermione. Rolf made a grand showing of pouring and praising the wine while Hermione continued her chatting with Seamus and Katie. Draco nodded thanks and sampled the drink.

"Not bad," he conceded to Rolf.

"It's a Bordeaux from a region Luna and I hunted for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," he said.

"You don't say?" Draco went on, politely pretending to give a damn.

"Indeed Old man," he continued. "We never found the Snorkacks but the wine more than made up for it."

"That was fortuitous."

"Indeed it was old man – indeed it was."

"Dad swore when he was young, the place was run over with Snorkacks," piped in Luna. "Now all you find is Redcaps and Hinkypunks."

"Poaching of Magical creatures my dear," Scamander injected and threw his arm around the dizzy blonde. "We need new international regulations against that sort of thing."

"Our next project!" Luna announced, as if she'd just discovered gravity.

Draco was expecting another _Indeed Old Man_ from Scamander, but he just smiled and raised his glass.

"I'll toast to that!" he shouted, and all those within earshot raised their glasses languidly and then went immediately back to conversations. Draco left Luna and Rolf to their own cooing and conversation and looked over toward his wife. She was still chatting non-stop to Seamus and Katie Bell. Katie was still sending hate bombs from across the table, and Seamus had never acknowledged his presence in any way.

The one exception in this magical menagerie was Cho Chang. She was sitting directly opposite Draco and Hermione and on Ginny and Harry's right. She seemed to notice that no one on her side of the table was paying any attention to Draco.

"So what _have_ you two been up to?" she asked him and Hermione, but aimed it more at Draco. Hermione turned for a moment and went back to chatting with Ginny and Harry.

"You mean in the way of travel?" he asked her.

"In the way of anything I guess."

"Oh," he said and Hermione was still miles away. "Just trying to get back to where we were – before the accident that is."

"I was sorry to hear about that. Things are back to normal now I hope."

"We're working on it," he said, hoping Hermione would hop into the conversation.

"And he's been loads of help," Hermione suddenly piped in and hooked her arm through Draco's possessively.

"Oh, well I'm sure," Cho replied and smiled.

Hermione's arm in his felt good – like there was some point in his being there after all. Nevertheless, Hermione went back to chatting with Ginny and paid him no further attention. Finally Cho tapped Hermione on the arm and motioned for her to follow. Draco thought this was to be a trip to the loo as girls seemed to love going in pairs.

Inside the loo, Cho stood by the mirror to adjust her hair. Finding everything okay, she turned back toward Hermione.

"I couldn't help but notice," Cho began, "but Draco doesn't seem like his old self."

"Does he not? I really wouldn't know," she mused.

"Is everything okay – I mean after the accident?"

"From his point of view – probably not."

"Really – why?"

"Well, we didn't – I mean I didn't – just pick up where we left off."

Cho gave Hermione a puzzled look like she desperately wanted clarification but was afraid to ask.

"I mean in the sack," Hermione consented.

There was a long pause from Cho and then a look of befuddlement.

"Oh Hermione. Don't mean to pry girl – but why the hell not?"

"Because... I don't know him all that well – at least not yet. And I'd feel like a tart," she admitted and bowed her head.

Cho paused to shake her head.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense Hermione, but who in the world would care? I mean he _is_ your husband. My God - it's the perfect excuse to go to bed with a man you don't love."

"Cho!"

"Oh, I'm not serious – well, maybe I am, but still Hermione. Hogwarts was a long time ago. Take a good look girl - he's a hunk. And rich. A lot of women would jump him in a minute. You should be careful."

"I will."

‡‡‡‡‡

"So what keeps you busy these days," Rolf asked Draco, completely oblivious to the fact that Cho had already asked. "I was thinking you were with the Ministry?"

"No, that's Hermione."

"We knew she was there – with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Yes – very good," piped in Luna.

"For sure," Rolf went on, "but I'd have figured you'd be there too."

"Well, I'm not," he replied.

"So what _are_ you doing old man?" he needled.

"Trying to stay out of trouble."

"I see. Well, Hogwarts has awarded me a nice bundle of research funding for my next project. It's in Tasmania, by the way. Hopefully by this time next year, we'll have them a new collection of Tasmanian Tigers."

"That sounds exciting. When do you leave?"

Almost on the edge of exploding, Draco felt Hermione's arm on his shoulders and the two girls were back at the table. There was a few moments when all eyes were on Draco as if expecting him to blow a gasket.

"Draco..." said Cho, watching Draco's normally pale skin glow pink.

"Yes," he replied, glad to be focusing on anything but Rolf.

She rolled her shoulders into a shrug.

"Care to dance?"

"Sure," he fired back and jumped up from the chair. Hermione turned away from Ginny to stare at the quickly disappearing figures.

"I figured you were dying to get away from him," Cho said and chuckled.

"A few more minutes and I would have had to stun him."

Cho laughed and led Draco around the bend of the U and then the music changed into a slow number and she stalled.

"Let's hang here for a minute – this music's not right," she said and plopped down at a table somewhere in the middle.

Draco nodded, looked into space, and drew a deep lungful of air.

"So how are things really Draco – I've heard it's been rough."

Draco looked suspiciously at the question, and ditto at Cho in general.

"You've been a guardian angel this evening – how do you know so much?"

"I've got a girlfriend that works with Pansey... and she talks with Blaise."

"Oh – well then you probably know most of what there is to tell. I've got a wife that has no idea how she got involved with me and a mother that's cut me off for getting involved with her. It a lose-lose situation. I can tell you that."

"So, Hermione – any progress on that front?" she asked, rhetorically.

Again, he looked at her suspiciously. "Not much, but I think she's coming around," he lied with as much conviction as he could muster.

"Good!," she fired back. "Hey this is something I can dance to – shall we?"

"For sure."

Bouncing up, Cho was almost running to the dance floor. She paused and grabbed Draco by the hand to help pull him along.

"Come on," she said. Giving up on Draco she dropped his hand danced her way on to the floor.

There were already four brave couples having a go at it. The tune was a little faster than Draco's two left feet were trained for, but it was fun. Cho was very fluid on her feet, and it was no wonder she was so quick to ask. She'd always been a good looking girl to his eye – even if she was a Gryffindor.

They stayed for one more until the music slowed to something no longer appropriate. When they turned back toward the tables there was a bushy brown haired witch waiting just off the floor.

"We were just coming back," he said and smiled unevenly.

"Well, I think I'm up for this one," Hermione announced and Cho chuckled and then quickly melted away.

"Sure," he said and escorted his wife onto the dance floor. The lights dimmed down low and they got very close. He could smell the scent of her hair mixed with perfume. In a matter of moments he'd forgot all about Cho and dancing with her.

"I hope this hasn't been too painful," she said, reaching up and speaking softly in his ear.

"It's not too bad. I hope you're having a good time."

"Rolf is an arsehole. And he doesn't know when to shut up."

"He never did."

The music slowed to a crawl and his hands fell to her waist and a little further. A few seconds later he noticed Ginny and Potter and the lights picked up a little.

"I think they're all getting tight on the wine," she said.

"At least Scamander got something right."

He kept his eye on Potter. He didn't know why – force of habit perhaps, but he did it nonetheless. The slow dance tune faded to a stop and some of the lights popped back on.

"You ready for a break?"

She looked at him and smiled. "I hope Cho didn't get the best of you."

"No, there's plenty left," he said and gave her a little slap on the bottom.

They strolled languidly back to the table and quickly assumed their original positions. Rolf was entertaining the group with mating calls from the Blibbering Humdinger. The more wine he drank, the louder the calls got. After thirty minutes of this even Luna turned red with embarrassment.

As the evening drug on, even Katie Bell and Seamus would make eye contact as they spoke in his direction. It seemed as though the most hardhearted Gryffindors were beginning to warm up to his being there. Before the night ended, Cho pulled all the guys up from the table for a dance, so as to prove she wasn't hitting on Draco.

When at last Rolf could think of no new mating calls to imitate, the group knew it was getting late. Seamus and Katie were the first to call it quits. All the girls hugged and said their farewell while a few of the male Gryffindors shook hands and made promises to do it again before too long.

They all made promises not to apparate home as drinking and apparating was never a good idea. Draco and Hermione were feeling fine but, like all the rest, they agreed to take a train home.

‡‡‡‡‡

On the train home, and reflecting on the evening, Hermione took the liberty of resting her head on Draco's shoulder. The wizard put his arm around her, and while it felt a little strange at first she made every attempt to just go with it as Hippocrates had advised her. She kept hearing his words from their last meeting.

_Of course I know it's difficult. Many things feel a little strange at first – but you must get used to them. I know you don't feel like Mrs. Malfoy yet, but perhaps if you just try it on for size? Please Hermione, don't let a lack of memory destroy what you have now. And don't let this situation fester into something worse._

Damn – did he have to make so much sense.

_You need to allow love back into your life – and as soon as possible._

Oh shit – she tried to tune out the head-healer's words but then Cho's warning began, and just as loudly.

_A lot of women would jump him in a minute. You should be careful._

Back inside the flat, Draco took off his jacket and threw it over a chair in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabbed a pitcher of pumpkin juice and took a couple of glasses from the cupboard.

"Fancy something to drink?"

She didn't even have to think about the offer. "Why not."

He poured two glasses half full and slid a chair up to the table. Eager to see where this was going, she reached for a chair. There was several moments of soft lazy silence before Draco broke them.

"Look – I realize you don't love me. You're doing this because you think you should – because you think it's the right thing."

"_Do you_?" she said and grinned. "So now... are you going to drop me for Cho?"

"She did look good tonight," he countered. "but no... does that disappoint you?"

She shook her head and smiled.

"I know I married you," she began. "And at first I didn't understand why. But now... it's not such an incredible stretch," she confided and slid her palms over the top of the table and reached for his hands.

"About the love thing," she continued, and she felt Draco's grip tighten on her hands. "I'm just some silly girl who's lost half her mind – and all the good stuff at that," she went on trying to be cheerful. "I'd ask you for more time – but you've been so patient already."

"So, I'm out of time... are you leaving me for the Weasel?" he asked, and she laughed the question off.

"You know what Hippocrates told me at our last meeting?"

"Of course not."

"That I should get on with life."

"Get on with life?"

"Yeah. He said to stop trying to remember the past and just get on with life."

"He's a smart man, Hippocrates," he fired back with a little glint of light in his eye.

"_You're_ too quick to agree," she teased. "I told him I'd get on with life when I could remember..." she said, and could see the light leave Draco's eyes. "I'm just messing with you. I didn't tell him that."

"Stop messing with me then," he griped.

"I won't. Not any more," she came back solemnly. "Maybe I _should_ get on with life. But I'm not the kind of girl that does what she's told."

"Oh... are you not?" he came back, playfully.

"No, I'm not. But, I have thought that if I keep going this way – I might lose you," she confessed, and wrinkled her nose.

"So what are you saying?"

Hermione flushed and looked away.

"I'm just saying, I don't want to lose you – over something silly," she quickly added the last part.

"Over something silly? And what would that be?" he teased.

She looked long into cold eyes, grey as steel. Neither one made a move toward the other, but Hermione still had his hand in her's. Someone's hands were beginning to sweat but neither one could tell which. Not giving the witch a moment longer to change her heart, and still firmly hand in hand, he slipped up out of the chair and around the small table.

Pulling her up to her feet, he ran his hands along her back and into the bushy brown hair. Gently holding her head, he guided her mouth to his and kissed her for the longest time as if the two lost lovers had finally been reunited.

But she balked stoically as they approached her bedroom door. Her posture seemed to indicate she might still harbor doubts. He looked deep into her eyes but could find no answer. Not giving her a chance to refuse, he kissed her again. She swayed slightly and her defenses appeared to grow weaker. Her dreamy gaze said what her mouth couldn't will into words.

Leaning into her to gently nibble her ear, he pushed her through the open door. Tonight, Draco Malfoy would not be sleeping on the couch.


	10. Coupon Book

**A/N: **Thanks for the new Reviews, favs, and follows. This short chapter and the next was originally one chapter but some new material was added and it got broken into two chapters. I'm submitting chapters faster than I'm coming up with new material, so I hope this will do.

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**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**10. Coupon Book**

Some of the finest offices in the Ministry were huge airy things with slick black enabled walls and gilt trim. But Hermione's office had walls covered in a butter cream plaster, streaked grey and cracked from the years of neglect. In the days following the accident, she tried to concentrate on work but often found herself staring at these very walls.

But there was so much to think about. How would be define her feelings for Draco now? Regardless of her marital status it sure as hell wasn't love. Just because she shagged the man Saturday night, and repeated the mistake again Sunday morning didn't mean she was anywhere nearer to that. Fondness? No, that wasn't quite the correct word either. Comfortable – yes that was it. She was more comfortable around Draco now. She no longer felt she might wake up and find this was all a terrible hoax. Although the thought still crossed her mind from time to time.

Nevertheless, she had come to realize her worst fears; she had gone to bed with a man she didn't love and enjoyed it. In addition to that, re-assembling her past would be difficult if not impossible now. Sex had changed everything. It didn't look like there would be any way to resume her old plan now. Or was it?

Deep in thoughts, Hermione was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Imelda Thornbottom could be as nice as anybody you've ever worked with, when the time was right. When the time wasn't right, she could be a real pain in the arse.

"Hermione," she said, immediately upon springing into Hermione's office.

"Yes Imelda?"

"Do you have that report ready? The one on protected lands for Thestral grazing?" she demanded.

Hermione tried not to look surprised and shook her head. "Uh, no, uh – not yet – almost done," she lied, unconvincingly. In truth she'd forgotten all about the damn thing.

Imelda looked deeply troubled. It was never a good thing when Imelda was deeply troubled.

"Hermione – I need that by COB today – do you understand? I have a meeting with the governors in two days. I'll need to read over that report well ahead of time. Is that clear?"

"I'll have it ready after lunch," Hermione fired back, trying to make amends with the angry witch.

"COB is fine," she said, unemotionally and did a dancers spin on one heel and left the room.

_Damn_, she muttered. The memo to do Imelda's report had arrived on her desk last Thursday. She'd been so busy with Draco, trying to get him to the party, she'd forgotten all about it. _Draco and the party._ She shook her head at the thought of Draco, the party, and the evening after.

And it wasn't just Saturday night. Saturday night she could blame on the wine. But the Sunday morning encore? The thought caused her to blush. And like most things that one tried hard not think about, it turned out to be damn near impossible to put out of her mind.

But he was her husband, and she kept repeating this to herself but it didn't help. Sure, rationally the decision to go to bed with Draco was perfectly acceptable. But in her heart all she could feel was the pain from the pranks he played in school and the last thing she felt was anything like being this man's wife. But Draco on the other hand behaved for all the world as if he was married, and in some strange way this seemed to make things more acceptable.

After Sunday morning, it was tempting to say 'to hell' with her memory problems, and simply go along with Hippocrates' advice and just get on with the business of life. But she couldn't or wouldn't and didn't really know which.

On the morning after, Draco looked for all the world like the cat who had eaten the canary. But his gloating soon changed. She explained to him how she was still in a period of 'transition', and every word of their conversation came back to her clearly.

"What the hell does that mean?" he had asked.

"I mean about last night - there was something I didn't like about it," she confessed.

Draco looked at the witch curiously as if weighing her comments carefully. "Well, I sure things will get better. You didn't seem to have a problem last night."

Hermione blushed. "I know – that's what bothers me."

"Hermione, you're not making sense."

"Draco, I'm still trying to reassemble the past and I need your help."

"Well, you've got it love."

"No I won't. We won't get anything done if we're sleeping together every night," she said.

"So what does this mean," he asked, sensing a change in the witch.

"It means you sleep on the couch tonight."

"Are you mental? After last night? Are you serious?"

She frowned at the reply, but had to admit the blonde wizard made a good point.

"Draco, I'm sorry – I hope I haven't mislead you, and I hope last night doesn't turn out to be a mistake."

"Mistake? You didn't seem to be worried about that last night," he quipped and she blushed again.

"I know and I feel like a shameless tart. Look, Hippocrates had counseled me to get on with life, so that's what I did. But now... I think our relationship should get back to being a little more business-like."

"Business-like? I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea – are you mental? You're my wife..."

"I want you to work with me – help me remember. You won't do that with conjugal visits every night."

"Arrrggghhh," Draco moaned, with hands squeezing his temples. "I don't believe this."

"Look, we'll work out a compromise," she suggested.

"A compromise – Hermione, that's mental. If you could only hear yourself," he snarled, and Hermione stood fast, eyes narrowed, with hands on her hips.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Once again, Hermione was pulled from the dream, and she looked over to see Ginny standing in the doorway and wearing a smile.

"Ginny!" greeted Hermione. "Come in."

"Good morning girlfriend. Just thought I'd check on you."

"Yeah?"

"How'd Saturday night go?"

"Well, I had a good time – you were _there_."

"Ah yes," Ginny replied with a wry grin. "And how about Draco – he looked a little out of it."

"Oh he enjoyed the party – and the night after I think."

"That's good. Harry and I just thought he looked a little... well, not quite himself."

"Uhm, I never knew Harry to be so considerate of Draco."

"Well, Harry's been quite impressed with how Draco's stood up to all of this."

"To all of this?" Hermione asked, looking a little perturbed.

Ginny hung on the reply.

"At being shut out an all. It's hard on a guy you know."

Now it was Hermione's turn to stall.

"He's doing fine – just fine," she lied.

"Well, that's good to hear, and I hope Rolf didn't get on your nerves. Sometimes he's too much."

"Yeah, he kept hounding Draco for details. It was if he knew Draco is out of work."

"Don't see how he would, unless Luna had already heard, " Ginny replied, "but we were thinking of going out again – before Luna and Rolf leave for their next outing. We were just wondering if you two are up for another?"

"When?"

"In the next couple of weeks?"

"I think so – we'll try."

"You think Draco's up to it?"

"I think I might persuade him."

"Oh really," Ginny replied. "I can never persuade Harry to do anything he doesn't want to."

"Maybe you're not using the right forms of persuasion," Hermione snapped back.

"_Well_, fill me in girlfriend?"

"Can't," Hermione announced and jumped up. "Got to finish this report and then spin down to the art department."

‡‡‡‡‡

For most of the afternoon Hermione had been torn with thoughts of the report and Ginny's visit. Just why the hell had the ginger haired witch gone to the trouble to stop by rather than just send an Owl. It all seemed so puzzling. But she had to admit that she seemed to have problems with the simple things lately.

Struggling through the maze of distraction, Hermione barely finished Imelda's report by the close of business. Imelda, upon receiving it, scanned through the report, made a few unintelligible grunts and finally thanked her before breezing out the door. As soon as the report was handed off, Hermione made off to the magical art department to begin her secret project.

Back at home, Draco was moping around the flat and responding to her questions about his day with monosyllabic grunts. He was carrying on as if forced to suffer through some great injustice. Still, all the same, he had dinner on the table and claimed to be still looking for suitable employment. She still hadn't mentioned Ginny's plans for another night out.

She figured after dinner would be as good a time as any.

"You're quiet tonight," she said at last. "You still pissed?"

Draco glared but didn't speak.

"I was thinking about our compromise," she announced.

"Our compromise – you mean your compromise."

"Now cut that out," she snapped. "I'm trying to help. I'm trying to be practical."

"_Practical_," he rolled the syllables off his tongue.

"Yes, and I thought this might help," she added and placed a little colored booklet on the table. "Made it today at the art department. Had to wait till everyone was gone."

Draco looked out the corner of his eye at the booklet on the table.

"What the hell's that?"

"Take a look," she said and shoved it across the table.

With a smug expression, Draco reached over the table and grabbed up the booklet.

"Sexual Favors Coupon Book for Draco Malfoy," he said. "Is this a bit of fun?"

"_For sure_, but it is for real – check it out."

Draco thumbed through the colored pages and read out loud.

"This coupon entitles the bearer on demand (Draco Malfoy) to one: Wobbly Knees Wednesdays," he said and looked up smiling. He thumbed through several more pages. "And, Fortuitous Fridays, and a Sultry Saturday Night All-Nighter." he went on and looked firmly at Hermione. "Is this some kind of joke?"

She shook her head. "It's for real"

"And this what you do at work?" he asked.

"Sometimes. Anyway, you get to use one coupon per week – at least to start with – what do you think?"

"You need to see Hippocrates twice a week."

"Well, if you don't want it I'll throw it away," she said and reached for the book.

He reached out and slammed his hand over the top of the book and drug it toward him.

"Maybe I am mental," she continued. "But I want you to work with me Draco. I want you to help me re-construct my memory."

Draco nodded and then lifted his hand and looked down at the book.

"But it doesn't have to be all work," she went on.

"No, of course not," he quipped.

"I just thought that this way – I could get what I want and you could... well get what you want."

"That's not all I want," he looked up and dead serious.

"I know – and I'm working on that too."

There was a long pause.

"Well," she said and crossed her arms. "Are we good here?"

"We're good."

"Fine, because the girls are planning another do for Luna and Rolf, and I'd like you to come."

"Not another one," he lamented.

"I'm afraid so. And if you go – the coupon book might come in handy later."

Draco curled one corner of his mouth into a grin.

"Yeah, I just might have to tear me off a strip."


	11. Bad Karma

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, and the new favs and follows. This chapter, is also not a big one, but it's about the only way I can get out one a week. The next one will be bigger and actually working toward the end game right now and I'm very pleased with it.

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**11. Bad Karma**

After Draco had grudgingly consented to attend the get-together, Hermione penned a quick note to Ginny, informing her best friend of her gifts of persuasion and that the two of them would be attending. Stuffing the small bit of parchment into a reciprocally sized envelope, she tossed the note into her post box labeled 'Outgoing'.

At that same moment, an interoffice memo flew in and circled her desk before making an emergency landing on her desk with dire results. She gently unfolded the crumbled and damaged nose and spread out the single sheet of parchment.

Hermione,

Come by today when you get a chance.

We need to discus that business on your last visit.

Thanks,

Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'That business on your last visit', he had called it. No mention of a 'raise' in the note. This didn't sound good at all. She would have to go right away and wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else until she did. Putting a sign on the door, Hermione took off toward the lift and Kingsley's office.

Tracy Tolley was busy picking lint from her violet colored robes, and failed to notice Hermione passing under the gilded archway.

"Oh, Hermione," she said as Hermione approached her desk. "Didn't see you. You here for Kingsley?"

"Yes Tracy, please."

The attractive secretary jumped up from the desk and scurried off toward Kingsley's office. She returned a few moments later.

"He'll see you," she announced with a smile.

"Thanks," Came Hermione's professional reply and she followed Tracy until the secretary reached up to touch the lock, which unfastened with her touch magically.

"Thanks," repeated Hermione and stuck her head in Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. The wizard was fiddling with his pipe. A hard to read sign for this time of the morning.

"Oh Hermione, have a seat," he said. Hermione thought he sounded all too polite.

"Good morning Minister."

At this juncture, Kingsley began digging through a small mountain of parchment on his desk. Satisfied he'd found the correct document, he carefully slid it out from under the pile. He made a show of adjusting his reading glasses and then made a short announcement.

"Just got this from the governors just the other day."

"The other day?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid it's not very good news Hermione," he replied and began to read.

* * *

Addressing the request from Hermione Jean Granger: The governors conclude that a pay raise for Hermione's position with the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is at this time quite impossible.

The governors do wish to further add this exception: If Hermione wishes to transfer to the Magical Department of Law Enforcement, her pay would be increased by fifteen percent. Unfortunately this situation is aggravated by the fact that the relation of magical to Muggle gold is at an all-time low. This has created a depressing effect with the local magical economy.

Signed: The board of Magical Governors.

* * *

He slid the note across the table and Hermione sat there stunned and non-responsive.

"I'm sorry Hermione. This is a lot of codswallop. With your contribution in the war effort – I really expected the governors to be a little more receptive."

"Thank you for trying sir. I appreciate your effort," she said in a frail voice.

Kingsley nodded, sorrowfully. He made a show of tamping the pipe and then lit it.

"Oh, and I'm sorry to have to add this, but your mid-year evaluation by Ms Thornbottom didn't help your cause Hermione."

"I haven't been myself after the accident, but I'll eventually sort things out." she replied.

"I'm sure you will Hermione, and this whole thing is a bit strange – if you ask me. I'll make some inquiries into this. Not official of course. We'd never get any answers like that. But made informally, we just might."

"I'm afraid that won't pay the rent sir – but thanks for the offer. There's no other choice for me now, I'll have to get back into Law Enforcement."

"Things are that tight, are they?"

"Oh, yes sir, it is – almost dire. How long before I can get back to my old job?"

"I'll start on the paperwork today Hermione. As soon as the position opens you'll have to give notice for your old position."

"Two weeks?" she asked.

"Yes – that's standard for an interdepartmental transfer and your first cheque will be two weeks after that."

"That means it'll be over a month before I see a change in pay," she mewled.

"About five weeks I would imagine," Kingsley agreed.

Hermione shook her head and gave a little look of bewilderment.

"Even with fifteen percent increase we'll just be scraping by."

"No change in heart with Draco's Mum?"

"No sir. Not a bit."

Kingsley shook his head and then smiled.

"Well Hermione, I remember when my wife and I were first getting starting and it was tough. But there is one bright spot in this whole thing."

"And what's that sir?" she asked.

"You still have each other."

Hermione looked like she could cry.

‡‡‡‡‡

For days after her talk with Kingsley, Hermione tried to figure out how much they would have to cut back to get by. If only Draco could find work.

Every day she asked Draco as casually as possible, "Have you had any luck?"

And every day his simple was response would be, "No."

Even with the fifteen percent raise, it would be almost impossible to get by. They would simply have to have more. Either she would have to take on another part-time job in the evenings or Draco would have to come up with something. And soon.

Thursday afternoon, a little interoffice memo came flying into her office and did a nosedive into a pile of parchment on her desk. She quickly grabbed the little memo and tore it open.

Hermione,

A little more information with this business with

the governors. If you get a chance, come by my office.

Kingsley...

For a brief moment her spirits began to rise. Maybe the governors had changed their minds. Taking the note with her, Hermione went straight away to Kingsley's office. Tracy Tolley was able to get her in immediately and within minutes she was in a cloud of Kingsley Shacklebolt's pipe smoke.

"Sit down Hermione."

"Thank you sir," she said and fell into the large leather covered chair. "I was surprised to see your note."

"I know you told me not to bother, but I thought I'd check into this decision of the governors," he said and knocked some of the ashes out of the pipe, onto a nearby tray on his desk. "Kirby Castlelaw is an old acquaintance of mine and a firm member of the board."

Hermione sat tensely on the edge of the leather chair. Kingsley fiddles with the pipe and got it burning again.

"Kirby said most of the group were willing to help out with your request."

"Most?" she asked.

"Yes, it turns out that two of the governors – women of whom I can't name, objected strongly. Well," he went on, "the whole process is somewhat like a jury – they all have to agree."

"And they didn't," injected Hermione.

"No, they didn't. And further more. These two women, they were friends of Narcissa Malfoy's before the war. And they may still be."

"I'm not sure if I understand sir."

"Well, I would say that someone, with cognizance of your situation, has informed the governors ahead of your request, and convinced them against your cause."

"Wonder who that could be?"

"It sounds just like the kind of trick Narcissa Malfoy would employ."

"I didn't think she was aware of our problems – but I'll talk to Draco about it," she mused and dipped her head.

"I think you should Hermione."

‡‡‡‡‡

The rest of the week went by without incident. It was tempting to ask Draco about Kingsley's theory, but the whole issue was almost beside the point. Their immediate problems were glaring brightly without the funds to pay the let on time. She had reminded Draco of Ginny's plans for another get together for Luna and Rolf. Draco reacted sourly to the whole thing until Hermione hinted of the possibly of another romantic conclusion and Draco relented.

She thought about these things as she paused if front of Purge and Dowe's. With no one looking, she disappeared into the magical plate glass entrance to St. Mungo's. She wondered just how long these weekly meetings would continue and imagined Hippocrates would insist they continue until she was 'fully functional' in her marriage. What a tripe term – 'fully functional'. It was like comparing her to a computer or television set. _ Yes you bastard, I am fully functional now._

The young receptionist was poised at her station as usual.

"Hermione Gran... I'm sorry. Hermione Malfoy – to see Hippocrates at ten?"

The girl gave Hermione a curious look. "Let me check miss," she said and took off toward Hippocrates' office. Hermione puzzled for a moment or two over the girl's reaction. The girl had mistakenly left the appointment book opened when she left and it was just too tempting not to peek. Hermione could easily make out Malfoy twice, looking at the book, upside down. When she looked at it correctly, she read:

Draco Malfoy – to see Hippocrates Smethwyck at 9:00 o'clock.

Double checking the date at the top of the page showed the correct date for Friday. It couldn't be a mistake, Draco was seeing Hippocrates on the hour before her visit, and he hadn't mentioned a word of it. So... it was obvious now. Draco and Hippocrates were going over her condition just before the head- healer met with her. How convenient for Draco to get his point across. In Hermione's mind this made the patient-healer relationship a total farce. Angry as hell, she wondered if the blonde headed wizard had reported his progress of last Saturday night.

‡‡‡‡‡

Hippocrates, stuttered, stammered, hemmed, and hawed when she asked about Draco's scheduled visit before hers.. He claimed it had worked out that way by accident, but Hermione didn't believe a word of it. Unable to kill the thought that Hippocrates and her husband were in collusion, she cut the visit short and informed the head-healer it would be her last. She now sat stoically in the sitting room of her flat waiting for her 'husband' to return home.

Into a good book when Draco at last walked in the door, she looked up to see the wizard in what appeared to be a pleasant mood. She hoped he'd still be in a decent mood after she was finished..

"Hello love," he began in his cavalier manner that seemed to be something genuinely Malfoy.

"Hello Draco, where've you been?" she replied with arms crossed in front of her.

"Oh, out and about. Am I late?" he asked and threw his hand up innocently.

"No, I don't suppose so."

"Well good. How did your visit with Hippocrates go?" he asked, curious something was up.

"I might ask you the same."

"What?" He was obviously a little taken back at the question.

"You heard me. Your appointment was just before mine."

Draco exhaled deeply and fell into a chair opposite his wife.

"Yes... It was."

"So, all this codswallop Hippocrates has been feeding me, about getting on with life, it was really just you, wasn't it?"

"That's not fair at all, Granger."

"No? It sure worked to your advantage though, didn't it?"

"Yours too – you just don't see it yet," he said and screwed his mouth into a grin.

"I'm pissed Draco – and this is not funny."

"I'm sorry Hermione. It was never as deliberate as you think."

"This is exactly the kind of thing I remember of our past. I don't trust you now," she said and threw her hands up. "But we'll address this business later. There's another matter that requires our attention right now."

Draco looked into space, totally defeated.

"Another matter? What?"

"Apparently your Mum has a friend on the board of governors. The raise I was trying to get. Whoever the friend was – well they got it rejected. And we're out of money."

"Hermione, that sounds fantastic. Even mum could never manage that."

"If she knew I was going to ask for it..."

"You're saying she knew? How could she ever do that?"

"Simple – someone told her."

"Who?" he asked.

"Have you told anyone of our predicament?"

"Only Blaise – but he wouldn't..."

"Well it hardly matters," she cut him off. "What matters now is coming up with the rent. I'm short."

Draco ran his hands through blonde hair with a painful expression.

"I'll see what I can do," he said at length.

"Please – because right now I'm not a happy camper."


	12. It's a Dirty Job

**A/N: ** Grats for the new follows and feedback. Although the story is framed out to the conclusion, lemme know what you think. There's still wiggle room and I take comments to heart for future stories... Thanks for reading.

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**12. It's a Dirty Job**

The days since Hermione's accident had turned into weeks. Draco was getting better at recognizing the mood swings his wife was in and what they meant. Most could be attributed to her being a bit unfamiliar in her new surroundings. (new, because she couldn't remember the old ones) But what he saw yesterday was different – very different.

The witch was pissed. There was no doubt about it. Before, Hermione had sometimes been cold and distant from her lack of memory, but now she was pissed and there was no mistaking the difference. He'd tried for an hour to explain that his appointment with Hippocrates had occurred before hers purely by accident, but she wouldn't hear a word of it. In her mind, he and Hippocrates were working against her. Sadly, if he didn't find work soon, this little technical snag might not matter at all. Hermione didn't have enough to pay the rent for this month. They were a half a month short, and her small raise wouldn't be enough to return them to solvency anytime soon.

He had to find work. But that little bit of business had turned out to be devilishly hard – he had searched all over Diagon Alley and turned up nothing. He had tried the same shops and businesses so often they went running for the back as soon as he hit the front door. His family had made a bad name for themselves during the war, and now he was caught out in the cold. Hippocrates had tried to help but was probably restricted from doing so by the hospital's board of directors.

It might be a matter of months, (perhaps years) but his mother would eventually have to soften her stand. She couldn't keep him locked out of the family fortune forever. But by the time she would be forced to relent, a valuable slice of life might be long gone. And Hermione with it. No – he had to find something now and going outside Diagon Alley would be the way to do it.

Looking through the _London Times,_ and several minor newspapers, he had been working the most favorable areas of town. His search showed the new department store nearest their flat was in need of new employees. Fantasies flowed through his head of selling mens suits or perhaps ladies footwear. He backed up mentally and erased that part about ladies footwear. The entrance to Ellis and Burkes was coming up just around the corner.

Pulling open the huge butter smooth glass doors, he paused to take in the bustling activity as he peered into the madness. There were shoppers everywhere. A nearby sign explained it: Everything in the Store, 30 Percent Off.

Ambling around aimlessly, he finally bounced into a concierge booth in the middle of the store. He stood there for a few moments hoping to get the attention of the attendant.

"Good morning sir," she said in a falsetto voice. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I hope. You see – I'm looking for a job," he said in a frailly.

The attendant's expression changed from the mindless smile she wore for customers and changed into something more professional. Digging into a drawer of papers and brochures, she produced a colorfully printed map of the store. Circling his target with a felt pen, she pointed to the location and handed Draco the map.

"Human Resources is right here," she said, pointing now at the map. "You shouldn't have any trouble at all sir."

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you very much."

The attendant smiled the same silly smile she smiled for customers and went back to work – whatever that was. Draco nodded and went straight away in the direction highlighted on the map. Carefully navigating with the map through the crowded store he found a small office and the end of a hidden corridor. 'Human Resources' was stenciled with paint over a translucent pane of glass in the door. Testing the door, it was not locked and Draco entered the office and looked around to see a small wooden desk in the corner. For all it's lavish decoration and use of color on the sales floor, the Human Resources department was dull and shabby.

The desk's occupant was absent and there were no chairs for guests to sit. He paced the floors loudly and within a few minutes a smallish woman with a bun of steel grey hair entered the room, nursing a white coffee cup that was nearly yellow from years of use. She looked as though she'd been expecting him and handed him an employment application fastened to a clipboard and a pencil hanging onto the board by a string.

"You'll want to fill this out first," she said, authoritatively.

"Huh?"

"You're here for a job right!"

"For sure, but..."

"_Well_, fill out the form," she ordered and laughed. "There's a desk in the next room."

Following the woman's advice he stepped into an adjoining room and took a seat onto what appeared to be a small school desk. The application was composed entirely of troubling questions like: work experience, level of school completed, university and the like. He answered with private tutoring for all the school questions and clandestinely used Hippocrates and his public service work at St. Mungo's for work experience.

Looking over the application, he felt his spirits sag and his hopes in finding a job fade. He strongly considered dropping the application in the trash on his way out but a vision of losing the flat increased his resolve. He gave it to the H.R. worker who was still nursing her coffee in the nearly yellow cup.

"This doesn't look like much work experience?" she muttered, absentmindedly while continuing to read

"No, not a lot."

"Private _tutoring_... we don't see much of that. I'd say it was codswallop if you weren't from Wiltshire," she said, and fixed a stern eye on Draco. "You are from Wiltshire?"

"Most assuredly," he replied, laconically.

"It's not much," she said and dropped the application on the desk.

Draco, following her comment, nodded briefly and started toward the door.

"But..." she injected and Draco froze in his tracks. "With the Holiday season just around the corner, we might have something for you."

Draco looked at the woman incredulously. She was scribbling something down on company stationary, which she fastened to his application. When finished, she gave it a quick look-over and handed it to Draco.

"Follow those directions to Mister Jenks."

"Jenks?" asked Draco.

"Yes, he'll be the man you'll want to see," she added and went off to refill the yellowed coffee cup.

Draco said thanks to the woman and scurried off in the direction the map showed Mister Jenks to be. Following the map through the mens shop, his spirits began to lift. Maybe there was a job in menswear after all. But then the map proved him wrong. No, he was to cross over the mens department and continue on to Children's Fashions. He found the children's department and looked around for the man the H.R. lady had referred to as Jenks. There were a few sales-people about, but all were helping customers. In one corner of the shop there a small staging area. The area was adorned with balloons and tinsel and a clown in a bright striped suit and long floppy shoes was passing out sweets. Draco waited until all the kids had received sweets and then made his way up to the clown.

"You're a little old for sweets," the clown quipped before Draco could speak.

"I'm looking for someone," Draco corrected the clown.

"Fair enough – and if I can't help you I'll give you some sweets."

Draco sneered as the man's attempt at humor.

"I'm looking for Blaine Jenks," Draco said, looking at the note.

"Let me see that," ordered the clown, and Draco handed the note over. The clown removed his oversized glasses and read out loud. "Blaine, speak to this man about a job – Clarice," he read and immediately looked up at Draco.

"So do you know Blaine Jenks or do I get my sweets?" quipped Draco.

"I sure do – right this way."

Draco nodded and followed the clown through a narrow passageway and into a small office behind a stockroom. He took off his comically constructed sky blue top hat and tossed it on the desk. His white makeup line disappeared above the hatband.

"I'm Blaine Jenks," he said at length.

"You!"

"I sure am. And who are you sir?" he demanded.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Okay mister Malfoy – it says here you're looking for a job... and that you have experience with children."

"That's right."

"Well, do you think you're cut out for this kind of work?"

"And what kind of work is that sir?"

"Just what you see _here_," he said and pointed to himself. "_Entertainment_ – we're in the entertainment business. When children come into our shop we show em something different – we make em happy. When the kids are happy they want to buy our clothes - our toys and costumes. Yep, that what we do here," he added and swelled up with pride.

"So I'm to dress as a clown then?"

"Didn't say that. Didn't say that at all – oh you might – if the job calls for it. But no, I had you pegged for a cowboy. You _know_, a cowboy from the American west? We also have a commando action man costume and a Captain Britain kit. Have you ever fancied any of those characters?"

Draco paused and pretended to take the question seriously.

"No. Can't say that I have."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. We have a cowboy outfit that's just about your size," he said, eying Draco's physique. "Jeans, red flannel shirt, boots and hat with chaps and a leather vest. Oh and guns of course. No cowboy would be complete without guns. Your somewhat tall and a little thin – Slim, yeah Texas Slim would be a good name for you."

Draco sat there stunned – not completely sure of what he was hearing. The clown reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a cassette tape.

"You'd have to work out a voice," he added and showed Draco the tape.

"A voice..."

"Yeah, things like 'Howdy partner' and 'Thems the best boots this side of the Rio Grande'. Yeah, things like that. There's plenty of examples on this tape," he went on and smiled.

Draco wasn't completely sure he could believe what he was hearing. Had life really come down to this? He, Draco Lucius Malfoy was to put on a clown outfit – correct that – a cowboy outfit to amuse children? _What if I'm was spotted,_ was the first thing that entered his mind. But this shop was far away from Diagon Alley, he wasn't likely to be seen. But if he was – if Pansy or Blaise, or worse the Weasel – he'd never live it down.

The clown thumped on the desk loudly three times.

"Mister Malfoy – you still there? If the cowboy thing doesn't work you can try something else on for size."

"What does the job pay?" he asked, somberly.

"It starts at minimum wage, just like all positions at Ellis and Burkes. If you do a good job, you could see more. Now that the Holiday season is coming up, we'll need need all the help we can get and you'll be busy - after that - not so much. But if you do a good job, who knows, we may be able to find something else for you."

A week ago he wouldn't have blinked twice at this offer. But now – with the wolves at their door, Draco had to find a way to help. If he turned this job down then he might not find another before they were forced to move out. And if they did move out, it was a lead pipe cinch Hermione wouldn't be taking him with her. He tried to think of Hermione as he weighed the options. He tried to remember her as she felt in his arms Saturday night – and the morning after.

"Okay, I'll take it."

‡‡‡‡‡

"It's not anything to write home about, but I've got a job," Draco announced over dinner.

Hermione almost choked on her pumpkin juice. "You what?"

"I have a job," he repeated, flatly.

"Well Draco – that's great. Whad you find – and where?" she asked, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

"Really - it's not much Hermione. But it's with Ellis and Burkes. You know – that new department store?"

"Yeah, of _course_ I know Ellis and Burkes. So you gave up on Diagon Alley and the likes?"

"Had to," he said and leaned back. "The Malfoy name, you know, it's not the best in the magical world right now."

"Maybe not but still..." She stopped to smile. "Well, that's great, when do you get paid?"

"I'm not sure," he replied and Hermione's smile fell into a look of concern.

"You didn't ask?"

Draco shook his head.

"Well, no matter," she went on. "It's probably a two week wait. Maybe three. Draco this could help us keep the flat!"

"Look, it's seasonal work and it's just minimum wage. So don't get so excited."

"That's okay Draco. Hey, it's a start," she kept on with a smile. "So what do you do? You selling mens wear? I could come see you during lunch!"

"No – I wish you wouldn't do that."

"_Really_?" she asked with a new look of concern. After a few moments had passed, curiosity got the better of her. "Why not?"

"I told you it's not much – okay? I just took it until we get over this hump."

"Well sure Draco – no problem. Hey, that's kinda cool – you finding a Muggle job, and it can't be that bad. Really it can't... Are you cleaning up or something?"

Draco, finally annoyed, looked at her like she'd never shut up.

"No."

Hermione squinted tightly, trying desperately to deduce anything from the reply.

"Well, Draco really – it can't be that bad."

"It's not good."

There was another long pause.

"What!" she demanded.

"Entertainment – it's entertainment you see. In the kids – I mean the children's department," he struggled and Hermione looked totally clueless.

She threw her palms up and shook her head in bewilderment. She obviously wanted to ask more but refrained.

"We entertain the kids – with outfits, clowns – cowboys – superheros – that kind of stuff. It makes them want to buy the clothes, and toys and costumes and such," he said, and waved his hand dismissively.

Hermione looked frozen as if uncertain on how to react. After a number of moments had passed Draco finally broke the silence.

"I told you it wasn't much."

‡‡‡‡‡

Conversation over breakfast the next morning had been scant. Hermione wished Draco good luck on his first day at work and then breezed out. Now in the peace and solitude of her office, she reflected on their talk, the night before. What she didn't tell Draco was their financial situation was a little more dire than she had first described. If Draco didn't receive his first check in less than three weeks then his new job might not matter. What they needed was a loan to get back on track. There were several options here. One might be Gringotts. But it was unlikely Gringotts would help her. After all, the Goblins hated her, Harry, and Ron for making a total mess of the place and losing their Dragon. Two: her mum and dad might be willing to help. Problem here was, her parents were just getting back into the business after moving back from Australia. They'd had to cut back and were just skimping by themselves.

Pausing to entertain thoughts of her husband dressed as a clown, she picked up the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. The front headlines read: **Harry Potter and Ron Weasley bring fugitive to justice.**

_The Ministries newest Aurors braved the hostile environment of Romania to bring the criminal life of Sorin Razvan to a bitter end over the weekend. The Romanian wizard and crime lord had been sought in the connection to trafficking of magical artifacts for some years. After chasing the wizard through the treacherous mountains of Romania, the team finally caught up with him in the Argillian pass where..._

Dreaming of the Carpathians, Hermione tossed the paper down into a small pile beside her desk. Ron and Harry had been gone for a whole week and she'd been none the wiser. One of them could have been killed while she was twiddling her thumbs at home and wondering where she could come up with rent money. She remembered a story Ginny had told her of how Ron often let his cheques from work pile up in his bureau drawer in his room. Living at home, he had no real expenses to manage and no real need for the generous salary the Ministry paid him.

Perhaps feeling a little sorry for herself, she pondered on all this for a while and drifted off into a mood of melancholy.

‡‡‡‡‡

The cowboy boots were a size too small, but the rest of the cowboy costume fit fairly well. At least the children didn't complain. Blaine had mentioned something about an action man or superhero costume for next week. It really didn't matter which, because right now all he could think about was getting his feet out of the damned boots.

With his thoughts tied to his aching feet he almost didn't see them. Stuffing extra sweets into one kid's hands he quickly turned to escape. Ducking into a long corridor beside the children's coats, he faded into the shadows and watched.

He was powerless to imagine why, but Astoria and Pansy were browsing though the children's department and standing beside the kid he's just given the sweets to. The kid reacted most oddly to Draco's exiting the scene and was peering into the corridor in which he'd just escaped. Now Pansy had noticed the kid acting weird and Astoria had noticed Pansy.

Backed up as far as he could and with his heart in his throat it seemed time stood still. Pansy was still looking in the direction the kid was staring at. A moment later, one of the kid's friends called his name and he ran off, diffusing the situation as quickly as it arose. Draco stayed hidden in the dark corridor until Astoria and Pansy could be seen to disappear and and the sound of Astoria's heels faded away.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully eased out of the corridor and stopped to look around. There was no sign of Astoria and Pansy, but taking no chances that they might double back he took his break a little early. Astoria was looking pretty good these days. Her airy and elegant self was looking quite fit, he thought as he exited the sales floor without looking back.

Pausing in front of a long dressing mirror, he looked over the ridiculous outfit and wondered how life had gotten into the mess it had. He had left a beautiful woman and the cozy confines of Malfoy Manor to sleep on the couch in a small flat, married to a witch who no longer remembered the few good moments between them.

He was feeling sorry for himself he thought – and no Malfoy should ever sink to such. Hardening his constitution, he turned away from the mirror and gave the subject no more thought.


	13. No Dice

**A/N: **Thanks for the new reviews, and grats for the new favs and follows.

**A/N:** After a couple of reviews, added this note: There can be resolution in a romantic story - rom com or rom drom - in only one of two ways. One: the couple works out the conflict that has kept them apart and then disappears into the sunset, a happy couple. Two: They don't work it out and simply go their separate ways. Either way, the resolution occurs at the end of the story. If I cure Hermione now, and the two work it out, the story has to end. Now, even most average fanfic authors realize that conflict drives the story. No conflict no story. All published authors know this. I'm assuming these people read one or the other. So this leaves me wondering - WTF is going on with these comments?

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**13. No Dice**

On a beautiful morning, several days after the first of the month, Draco went down to retrieve the post and dropped it off at the kitchen table. Still sitting in a pile when Hermione came in for breakfast, she carefully fished one of the letters out of the bunch and inspected it closer:

Graham and Graham Properties

752 Finchley Rd

Golders Green, London

She quickly tore open the envelope and examined the contents. Written on cheap paper was a hastily scribbled message.

To: Hermione Granger. (obviously the records were of her premarital status)

Hope this note finds you well.

Please ring our offices as soon as convenient and make an appointment with Miss Chanders.

Have a nice day,

Joan Birkenstock

Residential Properties Manager

Graham and Graham Properties

_What the hell is this about?_ She wondered.

"Whas zat?" Draco asked through a mouthful of cereal.

"Oh I don't know," she replied. "They probably want to scold us for paying half the rent."

Draco cleared his throat. "Bollocks, they'll get the rest soon enough," he added and shoveled in another huge spoonful of cereal.

"Well, all the same, I better get down there and see what they want," she said and took a long swig of coffee. "Although. I'm not sure when I'll get the time. Can you go?"

"Wha?" he asked with another ball of cereal stuck in his throat.

"I said – can you make it? You have time in your busy schedule, Slim?" she asked with a devilish grin.

Draco choked down the mouthful.

"I could go during lunch. But we don't get much time for lunch – and I just started."

"That's okay Slim. We wouldn't want you to lose your job – would we?"

Draco shook his head.

"Just the same – we'll have to cut back to make up the difference next month."

Draco nodded.

"And with way you put down food, we'll never make it."

Draco dropped his cereal spoon with a loud clatter. Hermione grinned, and in a non-typical show of affection leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before breezing out the door.

‡‡‡‡‡

Counting down the days, the two week notice Hermione had given before leaving D.R.C.M.C. had finally expired and she was glad to have the whole experience behind her. Imelda Thornbottom could be a hard person to cope with under the best of conditions, but the last two weeks had been anything but the best of conditions. With no desire to burn bridges she apologized to the burly witch several times and tried her best to explain the conditions for the transfer to Law Enforcement. Imelda was a hard person to read, but Hermione figured she had assuaged the tempestuous witch to the lessor or greater degree.

It was, for the time being, back to the tiny office in Magical Law Enforcement. With the request for the raise, she'd given up all hopes for better surroundings. With most of her things sitting in the floor in boxes and crates at least her desk was free of rubbish. There was a memo that had crash landed on her desk with the crumpled nose hanging over the edge.

Hermione,

Welcome back to Law Enforcement.

Please sign up with Beollan Swordslipper for his next self defense and dueling class. If you need help moving, Maintenance can help you with the boxes and crates.

Don't miss the ten o'clock department meeting this and every Monday morning.

Thanks,

Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The Self Defense and Dueling class: she had just managed to evade that the first time around. This time Kingsley wasn't about to let her off the hook. Every law enforcement employee was required to take the class – the Aurors had to take at least three every year for the first three years and maintain proficiency requirements from then on out. She often thought, if Kingsley had his way, everyone in the Ministry would have to practice Self Defense training on a regular basis.

Busying herself with unpacking the boxes and crates, Hermione almost forgot the ten o'clock meeting, which was already underway. The ten o'clock meeting, another one of Kingsley's business rituals. He was easy enough to get along with, but one would greatly improve their chances by not missing his meetings.

Only a few minutes late, she scurried down the long corridor to door leading to the meeting hall. Hermione remembered why she hated this meeting. The door was already shut, a bad signal the meeting had already begun. Pushing the door gently open so as to make as little disturbance as possible she entered as inconspicuously as possible and grabbed the nearest seat. Kingsley was lecturing on proper arrest procedures and how this was especially important now that the war had damaged relations with the Ministry and magical population it served.

Her eyes quickly scanned the seats in front of her and circling Kingsley. There were many new faces in front of her – many new employees in the department. You could tell the new Auror candidates; they were all huddled together and sitting with the established Aurors. Then one face jumped out from all the others. In her haste to grab a seat, she had recklessly found one squarely in front of Ron. The ginger haired wizard was leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, completely enjoying the view from the way it appeared.

She quickly did her best to avoid Ron's stare and looked away; several minutes later when she glanced back his eyes were still glued on her with a sly grin. Whatever else Kingsley announced in the meeting, it was lost after she spotted Ron. All she could think about was getting out of the meeting and away from her staring ex. It didn't seem like Kingsley would ever stop talking. Just when she was sure the group would break, several newbies had questions to ask and then a whole new round of discussion would begin anew. After what felt like an eternity, the meeting began to break up. Almost in the doorway, Hermione froze when she heard her name called.

She jerked around to see Harry and a couple of new hires. Ron quickly noticed the situation and came ambling fortuitously over to join the group. More than a little eager to leave, professional courtesy demanded she turn around and accept the round of introductions.

"Hermione – can you say hello to a couple of Gryffindors?" he began.

Smiling at two young eager faces, the introductions were short and sweet. Ron was nudging in closer and looking for a chance to speak. Before he could manage that, Hermione smiled politely one last time and left the room.

Back in the solitude of her office, she grudgingly picked up a large report on her desk, labeled: Agreements on Magical International Law in Europe. Summoning all the will power she could muster, Hermione slid a fingernail under brown pasteboard cover, pried it open, and began to read. Footsteps, approaching slowly at first, paused outside her door, and the subject was never revealed. After an uncomfortable passing of time, Ron finally stepped into her doorway.

"Ron?" she said.

"Do I make you nervous?"

"Nervous – why would you make me nervous – except for creeping around my door."

"You sure lit out of the meeting pretty quick," he said and looked down at the chair and an invitation to sit down. When he didn't get it, he finally just plopped down.

"I had to get back to this report," she said and lifted the megalith sized document to illustrate.

"That thing looks dreadful."

"Yes," she said and smiled. "It is."

"How are things Hermione?"

"Things are fine."

Ron tugged at his ear quietly until the silence felt awkward.

"Hope you're happy to be back in law enforcement," he added at length.

"I am," she snapped, never looking up from the report.

"That's good – glad to hear it," he said and Hermione nodded, again without looking up.

"How are things with Malfoy?"

"That's between me and Malfoy," she fired back and raised up this time.

Ron threw his hands up. "Sorry, really didn't come here for that."

"Why did you come here?" she demanded.

"Well, since you're back in the department, I wanted to make sure you knew about Thursday nights."

"Thursday nights – what's special about Thursday nights?"

"A department get together, a morale builder you might call it, at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of beers."

"Really?"

"Yes, really – you think you can make it"

"I'm married Ron. Whether you like it or I like it, I'm married You understand that, right?" she said, talking blankly into the report.

"When you say it like that, it makes me think you don't like it."

Hermione lowered the report and looked at Ron with narrowed vision.

"Damnit Ron..."

"Look, Hermione – take it easy. All I'm saying is this: if you want to make friends – and be a part of this department – it wouldn't hurt to consider coming along. It's good for the new hires to be able to mix it up a bit. If you know what I mean."

"Ron, didn't you hear a word I said."

"You can explain to Malfoy it's business. I'm sure he'd understand. From what I understand, it sounds like he'll have to."

Hermione looked hard at Ron but didn't speak. An gnawing silence fell over the room.

"Best be getting on," he said. "Have a good day Hermione."

When he finally left, she threw down the report and took a long breath. She shook her head and wondered what she'd done to deserve this whole mess. It was difficult not to talk and confide with Ginny, but if she was going to blab everything to Ron it might be time to quit.

After her eyes began to glass over, Hermione dropped the report and took a deep breath before continuing on until mid-afternoon. The interoffice courier dropped off a small pile of post. Glad to be distracted, she thumbed through the letters and stopped at one piece of Owl-post. _Speak of the Devil – my best friend. _

Tearing open the note from Ginny, she read out loud: 'Hermione, We're having another do this weekend. Luna and Rolf will departing for Romania early next week. I know Rolf's a pain in the arse, but let's try and plan something before they leave. Love Ginny'.

Hermione shook her head and laughed at the note. How in the hell would she ever get Draco to another one of these things. Even hints of using the 'coupon' book' might not be enough. His mood after taking the department store job had totally gone to shite.

‡‡‡‡‡

Finally getting through the colossal report and with most of the week's business behind her, Hermione thought it was time at last to visit Mrs Birkenstock at Graham and Graham Properties. Leaving a note with Kingsley on the previous evening, she let the Minister know she would be an hour late and would make up the time.

Using a Ministry map for apparition into areas of the city, Hermione found a convenient alley to pop into that was within easy walking distance from the office building. The weather on this morning was pleasant enough and within a few minutes she was looking at the Graham and Graham office building directory. Room 302, the directory indicated. Feeling a little nervous energy, she took the stairs and spotted the number on the door at the end of the corridor. She was still completely baffled as to the nature of the letter. Pulling the door open, she approached the receptionist tentatively.

"Can I help you miss?" asked the young girl.

"Yes, I have a letter to see Joan Birkenstock," Hermione replied and handed the letter to the girl. She opened it, took a quick look, and handed it back to Hermione.

"Have a seat miss. I'll tell Mrs Birkenstock you're here."

The girl disappeared into an office complex and Hermione found a seat in a nearby chair. The receptionist came back in a few moments, smiled at Hermione and resumed her duties behind her station. There was a passing of several minutes when a middle aged woman, papers in hand, came out to greet Hermione.

"Are you miss Granger?" the woman asked. Hermione overlooked the mistake answered calmly.

"Yes," she said. "But those papers are old. It's Hermione Malfoy now."

"Forgive the mistake. Joan Birkenstock," she said and offered her hand. Glancing down at the papers, "Let's talk in here."

Mr Birkenstock opened a door for Hermione and they negotiated a lengthy corridor with rolling book carts strewn everywhere. They entered an office at the end of the corridor where Mrs Birkenstock assumed her seat behind a cluttered desk and pointed to a chair for Hermione. Hermione took the edge of the seat and clutched her small bag tightly.

After a few moments, when they were seated and settled, Mrs Birkenstock broke the silence.

"Mrs Malfoy..."

"Hermione's fine."

"Hermione. Do you recognize this?" she asked and lifted the paper for Hermione to see.

"It looks like my rental contract."

"Yes it is," she said and reached into the top drawer of her desk. She withdrew the cheque Hermione had written for half the amount owed.

"We also received your cheque for the rent," she plaintiffed and raised the cheque for Hermione to see. "Unfortunately, the contract states clearly that the full amount is owed by the fifth of the month.

"I'm sorry about that. But you see, my husband has just found work and there's been a position change with my job. But, we should have things sorted out and back on track by next month – I assure you."

"I'm sure you would Hermione..." she said and turned up her nose as if someone had just farted. "But unfortunately it's a little late for that."

"A little late – what are you talking about?"

"Well, unfortunately – the management has chosen to cancel your contract. It clearly says if full payment is not received by the fifth of the month, then Graham and Graham may elect to terminate the contract," she said and pointed to a line on the paper she'd been waving.

"But I can pay it back. All of it – plus the penalty. And why have a late fee if you're going to terminate the contract the first time someone's late?"

"Yes, well – that's a good point," she replied. "The truth is: well, property values have gone up in that area. Just this month two new comprehensives have gone up there and we're letting the same flats to new applicants for quite a bit more that what you've been paying."

"I see – it's just more money you want. It has little to do with us being late."

"I'm sorry Mrs Granger – I mean Malfoy. But we are following the rules laid out in the contract. We're only asking you to do the same. We're sorry for the inconvenience and we have some other properties in that area, less expensive of course, that you might be interested in."

"No thank you," Hermione replied firmly. "Don't think I'll be doing any more business with Graham and Graham."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Mrs Birkenstock said and returned Hermione's contract and cheque to her desk drawer. "In any case, have a check in the post for the remaining amount and please vacate the flat by the end of the month."

"I will," Hermione replied with a vengeful tone.

‡‡‡‡‡

"I'll be a little late Thursday."

"Oh yeah – why?"

"It's a project at work. But it shouldn't take too long."

"Okay," he said and looked hard at Hermione.

"Is that what's been bothering you?"

"Huh?"

"You don't look at ease," he went on.

Hermione bowed her head to hide her face.

"No – it's not that," she said, lifting to meet his eyes. "Something else."

"Well, what is it love?" he asked, and she made a face at the frivolous remark.

"It's the rent. I went down to talk to them."

"The rent?"

"Yeah. You remember the letter?" she asked and Draco nodded.

"They've canceled the contract. They want us out."

"You're not serious."

"Oh, but I am."

"You told them we'd pay them back – make it up and all that."

"Of course. But it's not over the let. The property values have gone up around here and they think they can get more. So... they used the half-payment as an excuse to evict us. That's all," she added and waved her hands.

Draco sat there for a moment, unmoving. The silence grew tense.

"So where will we – you – where will we go," he asked, rhetorically.

"I've spoken to Mum and she said I could move back."

Draco looked at her blankly – like she'd only answered half the question, and then his eyes dropped.

"You're welcome as well," she quickly added. "Mum wanted me to tell you that."

For a moment, Draco weighed the offer before speaking.

"I wouldn't feel right about that," he said and shook his head. "I wouldn't feel right about that at all."

"I can understand, but where will you go? Will Narcissa take you back?"

Draco shook his head. "Hermione, I've told you – this thing with me and Narcissa – it can't go on – she can't keep me out forever," he said, emphatically. "But to answer your question. There's an old bunk in the back of the shop, in an old disused stockroom. Blaine used to crash there before he got a small place of his own."

Hermione looked at Draco in disbelief.

"I could stay there till we get back on our feet."

"You're serious then. You'd say to hell with your mother to save what's left of this marriage."

"What's left of this marriage? Is that what you think – is that all there is now?"

Hermione couldn't muster the courage to answer.

"I'm Draco Lucius Malfoy. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded and then almost grinned.

"I may not seem like much right now – not with this clowns job and all – but I am who I am. And G'damnit, no Malfoy ever gave up on his wife and marriage because things got a little tough," he said with flared nostrils and bared teeth. "You understand."

"Uh huh," Hermione replied almost childishly, not daring to raise the ire of the wizard any further.

After a desperate silence, Hermione rose from the table and left the room. A few moments later she returned, clutching something in her hand.

"I'm not angry with you anymore," she announced. "And I believe this is yours." She reached out and grabbed his hand. Carefully unfurling his hand from a tight fist, she pulled his palm down and placed the coupon booklet down with care.

Draco looked at the coupon book and finally cracked a thin smile. He carefully thumbed through the pages and looked up at Hermione as if weighing her against each page in his mind. Finally, he settled on one page, which he carefully tore from the book.

"I'll use this one," he said with a sly grin. Hermione sat there, pensively as Draco moved around the table and took the witch gently by the hand and pulled her up from the table and in the direction of the bedroom.

"You don't believe in wasting time do you?"

"What – and give you a chance to change your mind?"

She had a reply forming on her lips when Draco quickly kissed her before she could get it out..

:

* * *

A/N: This last paragraph looks like it was added for shelly's shopping list review. Actually it was already in the outline, just tweaked it a bit. :) Oh BTW Draco and Hermione are together at the end of Chapter 9.


	14. Changing of the Guard

**A/N: **Thanks for the comments, and the new follows and favs. There's one more numbered chapter after this one and it will be a big one with numerous scene and plot changes.

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**14. Changing of the Guard**

The cluttered stockroom Draco called home had enough room left for a small bed and a tiny bedside table for his coffee cup and an old fashioned clock radio. The cramped quarters were also home to mannequins and stuffed animals used seasonally for the showroom windows and the sales floor. The room was especially junked-up now as many of these items had been brought in from off the floor to make room for the Holiday decorations that were already going up. At night and just outside the door, a holiday lighting arrangement blinking red neon would illuminate the animals and mannequins with a surreal effect. But at the end of a long day hardly any of that mattered. The bed was soft and comfortable and with the punters gone there was a sepulchral silence about the place that was great for sleeping.

There was no talking sense to her, once she'd made up her mind. He tried to convince Hermione to stay in the flat at least until the end of the month, but she wouldn't listen.

"I'm moving home," she announced, and that she did. By the next weekend, with the aid of magic, the flat was empty with not a stick of furniture left.

"We'll continue to see each other," she reassured him. "Don't worry about that." But he did. During the long nights of sleeping in the stockroom, he often wondered before falling asleep if things would ever be the same.

But what was he afraid of? He was Ace the action man, and Captain Britain all rolled into one. So what did he have to fear? The unknown, that was all. That was what often bothered him, and he wondered what went on in the Ministry during the day – during the hours of the long day. He wondered about the Weasel. What was that barstard up to these days. No doubt the news of his and Hermione's recent struggle was common knowledge in the wizarding world by now.

Either way, they had a date tomorrow night for dinner. He tried to concentrate on that until sleep finally erased the worries of a long day from his mind.

It was Friday night. He had pleaded with Blaine to switch evenings with him so he could take Hermione out to dinner. At first, the crusty ol fart wouldn't budge but after more persuasion and promises he finally relented. The Captain Britain suit had been tight and itchy all day and it was feeling great just to have it off and be back into street clothes. He was coming up on the Ministry building and it was a nice autumn night - cool but not cold.

‡‡‡‡‡

Hermione said goodbye to the few co-workers she knew in this new department and followed the wave of magical humanity streaming out of the Ministry building and onto the street. She backed up against a wall and searched through the crowd for the cotton-topped wizard. She agreed to meet him by the Ministry building and then settle on a place for dinner, but in this crowd, it would be hard to spot Madam Maxime. Finally, the top of a blonder than normal head of hair could be seen weaving through the crowd. She couldn't help but notice, as he pushed his way toward her, how he was taller than what she remembered of him in his school days and a bit broader in the shoulders. Finally he spotted her and their eyes connected.

"I'm a little late – hope you didn't have to wait," he said and moved closer, as if to kiss her. Unable to react automatically, she was slow to reciprocate and Draco withdrew the offer.

"Oh, no problem," she added. "Only been here a few minutes."

"Good – so where's dinner?" he asked, cheerily.

"You feel like walking?"

"We have a choice?" he fired back, drawing a smile from Hermione.

"There's a place right down here that Harry brags about. Care to try it?"

"I wouldn't normally follow Potter's lead – but in this case I'll make an exception."

"Good," she replied with an unforgiving expression.

They followed the crowd for a few blocks and found the restaurant that had been Harry's favorite. It had a inconspicuous and narrow street front but ran deep off the street on two levels. Following Harry's instructions, Hermione asked for a table on the balcony and received it. The balcony was always cozy and seldom failed to please. The room was suffused with soft lighting from an overhead chandelier and matching candelabras. Draco paused to gaze around the room.

"Well, wouldn't have thought Potter had it in him," he quipped and pulled a chair for Hermione. He quickly grabbed the chair opposite hers.

"So how was your day?" Hermione asked.

"Let's not talk about my day – how was yours," he answered, quickly changing tack.

"Just trying to figure out whatever it was I used to do," she said and the waiter stopped to leave menus and get drinks.

"So how's that going, doing what you used to do?" he said and motioned for the waiter.

"I'm not sure. It feels slow."

"Waiter, could we also get a wine list?" he called out as soon as the waiter was in earshot.

"Draco."

"What is it dear?" he asked, looking into her eyes of two cauldron size orbs of swirling amber.

She almost laughed at his use of 'dear'.

"About that get together with Luna and Rolf."

"Yeah?"

"Lets blow that off – till some other time."

Draco nodded, started to reply when the waiter returned. Hermione canted her head and wiggled her nose before making a disinterested selection from the menu.

"Make it two," he said, hoping Hermione knew something of the food here.

They folded the menus and handed back to the waiter.

"Sounds good to me," he finally replied.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I just don't feel like the questions."

"Yeah."

The waiter returned with an assistant and the two of them quickly set up the table. Hermione smiled at the service. Draco nodded approvingly. After a few quite minutes, Hermione had rearranged her pile of green peas into a pyramid and was swirling the smashed potatoes into a mountain shaped peak with her fork.

"You're picking at your food."

"I am not," she fired back.

Draco sat the silverware down and looked at the witch.

"Well, maybe," she consented.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Maybe we should look for another flat," she said with a fragile voice.

Draco paused and then wiped the surprised look off his face.

"What do you have in mind?," he asked and quickly refilled her wine glass.

She shook her head. "I don't know. Something. Anything."

"That doesn't sound like you," he said through a sip. "I thought you wanted to save a little first."

"Yeah, I did," she said with a nod, "but I'm already tired of staying at home. I just feel like I don't belong there."

Draco found her remark curious.

"Somewhere big enough for the both of us?"

She gave him a snarly look.

"_Of course_ – something for the both of us. It's not like I'm not trying you know," she said and reached for the wine.

"Okay – okay, don't get defensive about it," he said. "I just thought – well, what would it matter – me staying on the couch and all."

She started to reply and hesitated. "Well, even that would be better that what I've got now," she added bitterly.

"Surely, you don't miss me at nights?" he teased.

"_Sometimes_. It was kind of nice having a man around. Someone that's not your dad."

"That's good to know."

He hailed the waiter and ordered more wine. Midway through the meal and the second bottle of wine Hermione was compelled to break the silence.

"You haven't said a word about your place," she asked.

"_My_ place?"

"Yeah – you know that room you have in the back of the shop."

"Oh. Yeah, well it's a place to crash. That's about all. It's just the back of a stockroom really."

"But you sleep there all night - what if you have to go to the...?" she asked gingerly.

"You mean the loo?"

Hermione nodded.

"No problem, there's a large lavatory and shower in the corridor leading to the offices."

"I'd like to see it, your place." she announced with a mischievous air.

"You're kidding."

"No. I'd like to."

"We'll have to wait till the store closes, I guess."

"We got all night, Draco."

‡‡‡‡‡

They had walked over half of Muggle London, or so it seemed. But it was a pleasant night with a cool breeze moving the fragrant night air. Draco finally talked about his job and all the kids and punters he would see in the course of a day. He described the Captain Britain costume and how all the kids loved it and how itchy it was by the end of a day. They found a stretch in Hyde park where Draco continued to regale Hermione with stories of Muggle London and Ellis and Burkes.

They settled on a bench in the park and looked over the hazy evening gardens. At this hour Muggles might be afraid to sit there in the darkness, but with a wand in his pocket and his arm around his witch Draco felt no fear from any threat that might come their way – be it Muggle or magical.

Reluctantly leaving the tranquil setting of the park, they pushed on toward Ellis and Burkes. There was a small door in the back of the building facing a narrow alley. That would be their ticket into the building Draco explained. Punching a four digit code into a ten key cypher lock, a green LED flashed and Draco turned the circular latch.

"What's the chance of us getting caught?" Hermione asked in a fragile voice.

"None. The store's closed and I work here - remember?"

Draco pushed Hermione through the door and along a dimly lit corridor past an interior loading dock and on toward the back stockroom. Immediately the air changed to something one would expect mannequins and oversized stuffed animals to smell like. He reached up to grab a cord hanging from an overhead light fixture. With a snap, the naked bulb illuminated the room to near adequate lighting.

"I hope you don't read at night," said Hermione.

"No, of course not," Draco replied and sat on the edge of the bed.

Hermione laughed and checked all the stuffed animals. She walked past an Elephant, a Rhino, a Lion, and stopped by one that grabbed her attention.

"I used to have one of these," she said as she paused by a large Giraffe. "Have you named them?"

"_All_ of them?"

"Any of them?"

He laughed. "Oddly enough, only the Giraffe."

"Oh, your just saying that."

"No – really. His name is George. But he's the only one."

"Why him?"

"It's his eyes."

"His eyes?"

"It's the neon light outside. When the lights are off," he said and glanced up. "It make his eyes blink."

"Now you are pulling my leg."

"No – really. Come over here and I'll show you."

Hermione came over to the edge of the bed and paused.

"There's no chairs. Afraid this is all I can offer," he said and slapped the edge of the bed.

Hermione nodded and took the edge of the bed, obediently. He pulled his wand and turned off the overhead lamp with an unspoken charm. At first they could see nothing, but as their eyes adjusted to the dark the blinking red neon light grew stronger and withing a few moments the red glint could be seen reflecting off the Giraffe's eyes.

"See, I told you."

"He's cute," she said.

"So am I. Fancy some music," he asked rhetorically and clicked on the radio. Spinning through the dial, he stopped on _Ordinary World _by Duran Duran.

They fumbled in the darkness for only a moment until her lips found his and tongues began to dart and slither. Coming up for air, Draco apologized. "It's a small bed."

"We'll make do," she added and fell back on the bed, dragging Draco along with her.

‡‡‡‡‡

It was the custom, since Harry and Ron started as Aurors with the Ministry, for one to fetch coffee from the canteen. Harry had gone this morning and the two sat back in the Auror office and enjoyed the coffee while swapping tales from the weekend. Harry had an abundance of anecdotes after attending Luna and Rolf's get together. Ron's stories on the other hand had gotten, as of late, somewhat boring.

Harry looked up to notice a little inter-office memo making lazy circles over his cubicle before turning on final for a difficult crosswind onto the short field desktop. Harry winced at the results. Unfolding the crumpled results, he read the note:

Harry,

You haven't stopped by my office yet – seems like forever.

If you get a chance, I'd like to chat a moment.

Hermione.

It was true, he hadn't stopped by her office since she'd returned to Law Enforcement, but he had seen the witch several times. It must be over something a bit personal, he guessed. Without telling Ron the note was from his ex, he shoved the bit of parchment into his pocket and excused himself. Ron gave him a funny look but said nothing as Harry zipped out of the office.

Hermione was stuck in the same tiny hole of an office as before. It was at the end of the long corridor that lead to the Defense and Dueling room. Rapping politely a couple of time on the door frame, he poked his head in. Hermione was sitting at her desk, for once, without having her head buried into a book or binder.

"Good morning," he hailed, cheerily.

"Good morning Harry," she replied, warmly. "Please, come in."

Harry nodded and took the uncomfortable wooden chair sitting cater-cornered from her desk.

"Glad you could come Harry," she began and he smiled. "Hey, tell Ginny we're sorry we didn't make it to the do."

"We wondered what happened to you – nothing bad I hope."

"No nothing really bad. Just the normal shite you might say."

"That bad, eh?"

"We got evicted from the flat," she lamented and shook her head.

"Over what?"

"Over a late payment. We didn't have enough to cover the full amount – so we sent what we had."

"And they kicked you out for that?"

"No. Not just that. They had the thing rented for more before we moved out. Property values have gone up in the area."

"Oh, yeah. I guess I do see. So where you two living?"

"I moved back home. Draco got a seasonal job for the holidays and he's staying in a stockroom in the back of the shop."

Harry shook his head. "That must be a change for him."

"Yes," she replied, dismissively. "Seems incredible, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"I was wondering about this Thursday night team building thing," she began. "So when did this get started?"

Harry looked a little taken back by the question.

"Oh, I don't know. Now that you mention it – a couple of weeks before you came back – now that I think about it."

"Do you know who started it?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It's been kicked around for a long time – it was Ron I think."

"I see," she said, peering through two squinting eyes.

‡‡‡‡‡

It was almost mid-morning when Blaine came by with the story of the huge bird flying around in the back of the store.

"Huge bird?" Draco said, with a most uncharacteristic expression for the action man he was playing.

"Christ, yeah the thing was fucking huge," Blaine added, still shaking his head.

Draco pretended not to know what this all meant and went back to work until it was time for his first break. Excusing himself from one little demanding brat, he slipped off the sales floor and into the little back stockroom he now called home.

On the center of his bunk, there was an envelope formally addressed to Draco Lucius Malfoy. He looked around before breaking the seal and retrieving the contents.

* * *

Draco,

There has come to our office dire news of your families' estate.

Please come to our offices as soon as your schedule allows.

Professionally Yours,

Dennison and Dennison,

Solicitors and Barristers of Magical Law

2120 Tottenham Court Road

London.

* * *

_What on earth could this mean? Has Narcissa finally managed to legally remove me form the family?_

Doing his best to act normal, Draco returned to the sales floor and waited for his lunch break to leave. He explained to Blaine that some important business had come up and that he might be late. The salty geezer pulled a face and asked just what was so important. Draco tried to invent a story but he could tell the Ol fart didn't believe a word of it. 'Just have your arse back here as soon as possible, and make up the time you're gone,' he said and stormed off.

Draco nodded and went straight away to the alley behind the shop and disapparated to a place he knew of that was very close to the address on Tottenham Court Road.

He made his way to the front of the building, climbing a flight of marble steps and through heavy oaken doors. The receptionist gave him directions to the hidden passageway leading to Dennison and Dennison. Reaching for the handle, the two doors opened magically to a small atrium with a concierge in the back corner. The air was thick with the musty smell of old volumes and stale cigar smoke.

"Can I help you?" asked the young girl.

"I'm Draco Malfoy and I got this notice this morning," Draco replied and flashed the envelope holding the notice. The girl smiled and excused herself from her station for only a few moments.

"Mister Dennison will see you now," she said, still holding the door open.

Draco entered a huge office with walls lined with aged oak wainscoting and leather covered volumes cracked with age. Mister Dennison sat behind a huge desk of Mahogany, wearing a warm smile.

"Have a seat Draco," he said and aimed his hand in the direction of a warm looking Chesterfield.

Draco complied and fell into the huge chair. "What's this all about sir?" Draco asked and Dennison's expression turned grave.

"I'm afraid there's been unfortunate news Draco," he said and paused. "It concerns your father."

"My father," Draco said, choking out the response.

"Yes, he passed away in Azkaban Prison over the weekend. We just got the news this morning."

Draco sat there as if unable to process the information.

"But why you – why are you telling me this – instead of my mother?"

"I couldn't say Draco. She may not be aware just yet," he added. "But at any rate, there are other reasons."

"Other reasons?"

"Yes. Draco, did you know our firm has been representing your family since the days that your ancestors entertained the royal court with magic?"

"That's fine but..."

"Also, did you know that magical and Muggle laws may be quite different on the subject of inheritance and wills and those kinds of things?"

"Yes, but..."

"Draco, let me read you this letter your father prepared before this recent illness took his life," he asked and Draco nodded with a look of exasperation. Dennison unfolded the letter and began to read:

* * *

Draco,

I have, toward the last years of my life, been a great disappointment to you and my family. It is, with this sorrowful realization that I hope to make it up to my only son and heir. It has been arranged through Dennison and Dennison that you be appointed, immediately upon my death, as the sole heir and Lord and Master of Malfoy Manor and all properties and monies of the estate.

Of course with his gift, it will be your responsibility to take care of your mother as I would have, if freed from the bonds of this dreadful place.

It is with love and care that I sign this letter,

Lucius Malfoy II.


	15. Love Never Adds Up

**A/N: **Some really nice comments on the last one - I appreciate that, and also grats for the new favs and follows. This is the last numbered chapter - more at end of story.

* * *

**And Wake Me With The Morning Light**

**15. Love Never Adds Up**

Draco sat there in stunned silence, not completely sure if he believed what his ears were telling him.

"You mean to tell me – in this day and time, a father could leave an entire estate to a son? This is like something out of a Jane Austen novel."

He'd never actually read a Jane Austen novel, but Hermione had told him all about them. The old Barrister looked at Draco curiously and finally cracked a smile.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm telling you.. This is an old custom Draco, leftover from the days in which only men could inherit property. Completely without practice in the modern Muggle world. That's why you never hear about it, but then this is hardly the Muggle world, is it?"

Draco shook his head.

"But it is something more specific to your family," the barrister continued. "Malfoy Manor has, by custom, been passed down through the male lineage since the days of it's inception. And I doubt your mother was aware of this. I doubt Lucius ever told her."

"But my father," he added. "At last report his health was holding up very well. I hope there was no skullduggery here."

The old barrister shook his head. "I don't think so. The overcrowded conditions at Azkaban after the war – have been atrocious from what I hear. Disease and sickness are quite common within those dreaded walls."

Draco shook his head while examining a pattern in the marble floor. He finally lifted his head to speak.

"You've drawn up the legal papers then?" he asked.

"I can have them ready for you to sign in just a minute."

"That's fine. Oh, and you'll be able to keep them here?"

"Certainly Draco, and I've mentioned before, You're family has been doing business with this firm for a long time. We sincerely hope to see you continue that tradition."

At length Draco nodded. It was as if he was having trouble processing any more information.

"Of course."

‡‡‡‡‡

Narcissa Malfoy sat in the garden overlooking the manor and sipped tea. It was a warm autumn morning and with the sun out as it was the weather was quite manageable. There was a large white trellis behind her intertwined with tangled leafy vines. The leaves were almost brown now, but still able to bring shade and relief from the bright morning sun. Exiting a side entry from the manor, Gilbert was struggling with a silver serving cart with wheels too small for the irregular terrain. Atop the cart stood a silver teapot and delicate china that rattled constantly as the house-elf trudged along the stone path.

"Careful with that Gilbert," Narcissa called out.

"Yes, madam," he replied and slowed down a bit.

Dressed in a delicate floral printed gown, she sat formally erect and smoothed out invisible wrinkles in her lap. Her eyes drifted out over the grounds, not really looking, not really seeing, occasionally swinging at a bothersome bug or insect that had survived the cool nights. Dreaming far away dreams, she sat there idling until soft footsteps, crunching on the gravel pathway, gained her full attention.

Sitting the ornate china cup on the table, she waved gently to the feminine figure that approached. Astoria Greengrass made her way through the morning sun to join the witch who was almost a mother in law. As always, Astoria maintained a light and ethereal beauty while her delicate gown ruffled in the morning breeze.

"You look lovely my dear," began Narcissa.

"As always Narcissa, you're too kind," she replied and took the seat beside the graceful matriarch.

"Gilbert," called Narcissa. "Bring tea for Astoria. It's a bit late for the garden, but I hope we can manage."

"It's fine, and you should have called earlier Narcissa," Astoria began immediately. "Our family has been distraught over the news."

"You're right – I should have," she said and placed her hand over Astoria's "You know you're still family to me. But, Draco and I finally agreed on something and we decided to have a small family ceremony."

"I see," Astoria lamented. "Still, all the same we feel terrible about this."

"We will heal," she replied and patted Astoria's hand. "We will heal in time. I like to think my husband was just another victim of the war."

"Oh, but of course Narcissa," Astoria replied, pitifully.

Narcissa paused and looked around. "GILBERT, where is that tea?"

"Yes, madam. Immediately madam." He ignored the cart and scurried up in hand with cups and the silver teapot.

"Astoria," she said and paused. "There's one more bit of news, and you may not be aware of."

"What do you mean?"

Both women paused as Gilbert placed a cup on the nearby table for Astoria and made a fuss of pouring the tea. The young woman nodded thanks and then made a deliberate attempt to return her full attention to Narcissa.

"I'm afraid our plans may have been all for naught. There's been a peculiar turn of events."

"Events? Prey tell," Astoria managed with a delicate voice.

"Well... It appears Lucius has left the entire estate to Draco. Turns out that's an old custom among the Malfoys"

"Narcissa, you don't meant it? Everything!?"

"Yes," she said and waved dismissively. "I don't own a damn thing. It all goes to Draco."

"Is that legal!?" Astoria cried.

Narcissa turned her palms up questionably. "Probably... Oh, I have my own legal people looking into it but it doesn't look good." she said with a glare.

Astoria shook her head in animated hatred.

"Oh, Draco has been very reasonable," continued Narcissa. "He even asked me to stay – but I'm not."

"You're not!"

"No. I won't stay here if he brings that harlot to Malfoy Manor. Not a minute."

Astoria shook her head and delicate corkscrew curls swung to and fro. "Well... I don't think those words are exactly appropriate for Hermione Granger, but I understand how you feel."

"Do you?" Narcissa replied flatly.

Astoria nodded. "I believe I do. But I wouldn't give up so quick. We might not be able to stop them Narcissa – but that doesn't mean we have to make it easy for them."

Narcissa's sour face pulled up into a smile. "You've hatched a new plan?"

Astoria shook her head and smiled. "We've found a new friend – Cynthia Strykes – she was in Slytherin house. Now she's playing Quidditch with the Chudley Canons... and Ginny Weasley. We're getting all the dirt on these two. No, I wouldn't give up just yet."

‡‡‡‡‡

It was two days after the Owl from Dennison and Dennison and Draco had kept the whole incident bottled in. He would have to tell Granger soon, and he wanted to. He wanted to see the look in his wife's eyes when he told her they would never suffer for the lack of money again.

But after years of bad-mouthing his father it suddenly felt like a very private thing. And he was ashamed. For so long he had lived with the deepest desire to be nothing like his father. He somehow felt unworthy now to have the entire Malfoy estate dumped in his lap. It would take time to heal, and he didn't dare count his chickens until Narcissa had exhausted all efforts to contest the will.

That night, among the stuffed animals and mannequins, Draco stopped the carousel whirling in his head and made every effort to put things in order.

He had been angry for so long – furious at his father for supporting the wrong cause in this awful war. But now – all he could feel was guilt. Guilt over the anger and hatred and resentment he had felt for so long.

All he wanted at this moment was to tell his father he was sorry, that he felt sorry for the way he had acted these last years. But it was too late. He had waited too late. There was no one there to hear it – but he said it anyway. Among the mannequins with no heads and the animals with no names, Draco let his hard heart finally melt into words and prayed for forgiveness for the biggest mistake he had ever made.

‡‡‡‡‡

Blaine had barely stopped talking about the first Owl in the building when another, a huge barn Owl, flew into the shop and circled around a few times before finding a way out. Draco wasn't there to see it but Blaine came running up to regale him as fast as his huge clown feet would allow. Pretending to be amazed, Draco waited until Blaine was gone and then ran toward the back stockroom.

On the bunk was another envelope. This one, a note from Hippocrates said:

Draco,

It's possible we may have stumbled upon a cure

for Hermione's condition. It's quite remarkable really.

I know the witch was angry with us after the last meeting.

Maybe you should come down and we can first explain

the process to you. Time is of concern, so please make haste.

Your friend and servant,

Hippocrates.

P.S.

Sorry to hear about your father

We'll have a Scotch in his honor.

:

Blaine would throw a fucking fit if he asked for more time off, so he would go during his lunch hour and hope to grab something to eat later. Before changing into Ace the action man, he ran to the store canteen and grabbed an egg sandwich and bottle juice and stuffed it under his bunk.

When the lunch hour finally arrived, he went back to the bunk and pried loose the sandwich and juice. He wolfed down the sandwich while walking to the deserted alley in the back of the store and chased it with the orange juice before disapparating to St Mungo's.

The young receptionist took one look at the commando action man costume and choked back a laugh.

"Hi, I'm..."

"I know who you are," she said flirtatiously and made off toward Hippocrates' office. She was still grinning when she came back out.

"He can see you now."

"Thanks," he said, and she smiled again.

The hospital disinfectant smell faded as one neared Hippocrates' office and changed into something more like old musty volumes and dusty stuffed animals. As usual Hippocrates had his head into an old medical book of some kind. It would seem like Hermione and Hippocrates should get along better, he thought. His footsteps announced his presence and the bald head popped up.

"Draco, good to see you," the head-healer announced and gently put the volume down on the desk.

"I was happy to get the note sir," began Draco as he grabbed the huge leather chair. "So, you mentioned a cure?"

"Yes! I sure did. And I'm eager to see this process started. How is Hermione. She was a little cross after our last meeting?"

Draco laughed. "Better, but still – she seems to be waiting on something – her memories I suppose."

Hippocrates nodded with a smile. "She's not the type to give up – is she?"

"For the most part, no."

Hippocrates looked sideways at this remark. "Well," he continued. "What's with the outfit?"

"It's part of my work now. I entertain kids at Ellis and Burkes. Gotta do something to make ends meet. I was afraid if I didn't help Hermione... well, you know."

Hippocrates looked up solemnly and paused. "Draco, I want you to know, I'm truly sorry about your father."

Draco nodded deeply. "Thanks."

"I've always owed the Malfoys a deep gratitude and that goes for you too. I tried to find you a position here – I really did, but the board wouldn't buy into it," he said and paused. "But I still owe you and I haven't forgot it."

"That's comforting to know sir."

"Well, now that your father's gone you represent the Malfoy family Draco, and I hope to see you repair your family's position with the magical community."

"I'll try my best sir.."

Hippocrates smiled a huge toothy smile. "Good. Good. Now about Hermione," he went on. "We found that the memories she lost were actually driven, or in Hermione's case hammered, into the subconscious mind. Now, once the memories are buried in the subconscious, the victim no longer has any access to them, but they're still there. We found this by experimenting with light doses on volunteers."

"They must have been devoted, the volunteers."

"Yes, they were. With a series of special treatments, we think over two or three weeks, the memories Hermione lost can gradually be rooted out and extracted from the subconscious."

"Well that's great Hippocrates. I know she'll be delighted to hear it."

"Well, now before you get her hopes up," he cautioned. "There are a couple of things you need to know. One: the process is not guaranteed. We believe it will work, but we'll only know for sure when we try. And two: time is of the essence. She needs to come in right away."

"Right away, eh?"

"Yes, the longer the memories stay buried, the more difficult it may be to extract them."

"I'll bring her in straightaway then."

"Good! Now, about that drink I promised," he said with another toothy smile.

‡‡‡‡‡

Blaine would most likely throw a fit, but if he went very quickly there was a chance he could stop by the Ministry before returning to work. He'd have to take a chance with the commando kit. If he ran into the Weasel and the red head gave any crap there could be a fight. Disapparating from the alley close to St. Mungo's he was checking into the Ministry and hitting the lift a few moments later.

Draco remembered Hermione's office from the days when she got stuck filling in for Cynthia, his original case officer. He could smell the Department of Magical Law Enforcement through the scissor bar doors of the lift before he got there. The damned place always smelled the same.

Draco stepped off the lift and breezed down the long corridor to Hermione's office. Being so close to lunch, there was very little chance he'd run into the Weasel. He rapped on the door frame once and stuck his head in. The bushy brown haired witch was laboring over an official document of some kind.

"Hello love," he surprised her. Her head jumped back from the volume. Huge brown eyes focused for a moment or two until she took in the commando costume and broke into a grin.

"Well, hello Ace – it is Ace with that outfit isn't it?" she quipped.

The pet names had started after his job with Ellis and Burke. They were 'Slim' after the cowboy costume, 'Ace' the action man in the commando costume, and 'Captain' for the Captain Britain kit. He wasn't sure if this was due to feelings of affection or ridicule. He fell into the uncomfortable wooden seat.

"Yeah, it's Ace. Alright?"

"Sure, but where've you been? Off fighting crime?"

"Been a busy week Granger."

"No shit – tell me about it – well part of it. I'm kind of busy here."

"Okay, deal. Part of it can wait anyway. I talked to your favorite Healer today!"

Her smile fell into a frown. "Really?"

"No, it's not like that. He Owled me actually. Look, he's got a cure Hermione – for your memory."

Hermione smiled politely but failed to show any genuine excitement.

Draco screwed his face. "Didn't you hear me? He's got a..."

She raised her hand. "I heard you Draco, and that's very nice."

It was Draco's turn to pause and ponder.

"Very nice," he said and shook his head. "I expected a bit more Granger. I mean, all this time it was like... like everything fucking totally hinged on it."

"I know. You're right, I understand," she said and smiled unevenly. "It's just that things have changed now."

Draco exhaled and took a deep breath.

"Changed? How?" He asked and suddenly felt very foolish coming into the Ministry the way he did. No doubt she took him for some kind of clown.

"We should talk, but... how about later. At Mum's tonight."

"What? After work?"

Hermione looked as though she'd suddenly remembered something. She tried to look normal but flushed slightly.

"Let's make it eight. I've this report here to finish – new job you know."

She looked different and damned if he could make out why. Protracted glances, distant stares, all of that and more the last couple of times he had seen her. It was if she was weighing something in her mind. A decision perhaps?

"What is it with Thursdays? You were working late Thursday a week or so ago."

"It's nothing Draco. Really," she said and went back to hiding her face in the book.

"Okay Granger. Eight then."

‡‡‡‡‡

"Malfoy – G'damnit you're late."

Draco snapped around to see the orange haired clown wearing a frown that wasn't painted on.

"Blaine. Hey look I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I'll work tonight and you take off. Deal?"

The old clown rubbed his chin, enhanced by sponge rubber and spriggly hairs, and pretended to think.

"Okay Malfoy – deal. Just don't make a habit of this."

Blaine gave him a hard stern look and then marched off as fast as his big flapping feet would carry him. By the mid-afternoon, it was break-time and time to change back into the Captain Britain costume. Draco liked the kit as it had foam padding to provide the muscular size that most average people don't possess. The kids liked it too and the only drawback was that the foam padding began to itch after a few hours.

Several hours into the shift, Draco was wishing he'd never agreed to switch with Blaine. The kids were especially rowdy on this night and the long day was already feeling longer than usual. All of these distractions combined with the earlier conversation with his wife made working the last thing he felt like doing.

He hardly paid any attention when he felt a tug on the back of his cape. The kids frequently did that when they wanted extra attention, a treat, or another piece of candy.

"You look quite fetching as Captain Britain." The voice was one he instantly recognized and he snapped around to face it. For a moment he was in shock.

"Astoria," he said at length.

"I thought you'd forgotten me, for a moment."

"No, I haven't forgotten," he said with a sullen expression.

She looked at the outfit and smiled. "Don't worry Draco your secret is safe with me."

"Nothing was ever safe with you," he fired back.

"Draco, that's not fair. You were the one who left me remember."

He took a moment to look over the witch. As usual she was dressed in a full length chiffon gown; she never did know how to dress casual.

"So what brings you to Ellis and Burkes tonight? And don't tell me shopping."

"Well, that and other things."

"I'd believe the other things."

"Well, you can believe what you like. But your witch – if you want to see where she spends her Thursday nights, go to the Leaky Cauldron," she said with a smirk grin.

He thought on this for just a moment.

"Well, I don't. You see, I trust Hermione. Completely."

Astoria laughed at this admission.

"Forget it then. But, it's the truth. Goodnight Draco."

Draco watched the witch turn on one heel and stroll off to another department. He did his best to put suspicious thoughts to rest went back to work. _It was all some tripe that Astoria and maybe his mother had cooked up to make him doubt his wife. He would never let those witches get the best of him. _

‡‡‡‡‡

But the more he tried the less he was able to concentrate on work. Blaine would make him redundant if he found out he left his post, but he had to know. Weakness and curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had to find out. Apparating into a little alley short of the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, Draco proceeded, bold as brass, pausing in front of the Muggle door to the pub. He looked down at the Captain Britain kit. If this was all some prank, he could zip back to the shoppe before his absence was noticed. If it wasn't he'd likely make a fool of himself. On top of that it had started to rain. Now he would be able to go back to work without being noticed. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and barged in.

The pub was dim as always and he stopped to allow his eyes time to adjust. He pulled the handle of his wand out an inch or so out of the elastic sleeve. Walking toward the laughter. He could see a small crowd gathered in the corner. Slowly the whole scene came into view, starting with Potter's charming face, then Weasley, and then... his wife sitting between Potter and Weasley. Or was she just sitting next to Weasley? The crime was difficult to quantify. There were about five other faces scattered about the table he didn't recognize.

They didn't notice him. Not even when he walked up to the front of the group and stopped. They were so busy chatting, and laughing, and carrying on they didn't notice. Finally Hermione spotted him and her jaw dropped.

"Draco," she finally called out.

Quickly, all heads turned his way.

"So this is where you spend Thursday nights?"

"It's not like it looks – really."

"Doesn't look like you're doing any report."

Hermione sat there, stunned and silent. Ron was taking a strong objection to Draco's presence by the expression he was wearing.

"Just what are you playing at Malfoy – dressed the way you are," growled Ron.

Draco's normally pale complexion was turning bright red.

"Piss off Weasley. I'm talking to my wife."

"Maybe it's you that should go. We have business here," Ron barked and started to get up.

There was a zipping sound as Draco's wand came out in a flash, pointed at Ron's head.

Potter was just as fast. Obviously the Auror training was paying off. Quickly, by the ruffling sounds of six more lapels flying open, all seven wands were now pointed at Draco's one.

"DRACO," Hermione screamed.

"You'd better _relax_ Draco. There's no need for this," Harry quickly injected.

Slowly Draco relaxed his arm, and the wand fell harmlessly to his side.

"Hermione – let's go home – please," Draco pleaded.

Hermione looked around the table and then back at Draco.

"Sure Draco – but to where?"

"You've got no home Malfoy," piped in Ron. "So bugger off."

He had never in his life wanted so desperately to smack Ron Weasley in the face with a hot curse. Partly in anger, and partly due to a case of hurt feelings Draco lowered his head and turned toward the door. Harry started after him and Hermione too, but they failed to stop him before he threw the front door open and disappeared into the night rain.

‡‡‡‡‡

The next morning, the foam padding in the Captain Britain suit was still wet, so he opted for the commando kit. When he made his way onto the sales floor Blaine was waiting for him, wearing an unhappy face that wasn't part of his makeup.

"Good morning Blaine," he greeted.

"Let's have a word," the clown instructed and motioned for Draco to follow him into his office.

Once inside, Blaine dropped the tough guy routine.

"What's wrong with you Draco? Several employees told me about last night?"

"About what?" he stalled.

"About you leaving the store and coming back later – soaking wet."

It was time to be honest with Blaine.

"I've been having problems with my wife. We needed the money bad to pay the let on our flat. We didn't make it in time and my wife... well, she's moved out and hanging with some other bloke."

Blaine leaned back in his chair. He gazed down at he floor for a long moment.

"I'm sorry Draco. You shoulda told me."

"Well, with her gone I won't be needing the job much longer. But I would like to stick around until after holidays."

"Draco, I'm sorry to hear this. You were real good with the kids," Blaine admitted and shook his head. "If you'd told me earlier, I wouldn't have been so hard on you. It's just that with most the young people we get here..."

"It's not your fault Blaine. To be honest something else has come up. But I think working with the kids for the next few weeks will do me good."

Blaine looked back apologetically and extended an orange gloved hand.

"Put it here Draco," he said, warmly.

"Thanks Blaine."

:

For a Friday night, the foot traffic in Ellis and Burkes had been somewhat light. The Holiday music was piping in over the sound system. Intended to get the punters into the holiday spirit and get them in the mood to spend money, Draco was already getting sick of it. Around mid-afternoon business picked up and his mood lifted a little. During his break, he checked out the Captain Britain suit to find it was dry again, so he slid back into the popular kit for the last shift. The kids were a little obnoxious this evening but entirely manageable if you gave them an extra attention or a treat of some kind.

They'd been blabbing effervescently, and all at the same time, when suddenly everything got as quiet as tomb. Draco turned around to see what was the matter. The 'matter' was about five foot two, big browns eyes and bushy hair bigger than life. His first thought was how beautiful she looked but he did his best to put that thought away.

"You were always good with kids," she began.

"Didn't expect to see you again."

"You'd make a great dad."

"Yeah," he snarled. "I think I'd need a wife for that."

"Why'd you leave the other night?"

"Didn't feel welcome."

"You didn't give me time to explain."

"There was no need to explain Granger – it was fairly obvious."

"No Draco, it wasn't. It was a team building exercise for new recruits. I pretty much had to go. Ron cooked the whole thing up. He hasn't given up on me you see, but I've given up on him. I didn't tell you about it because I figured we had enough troubles as it was," she argued and looked him hard in the eye.

"Well, either way, it seems you have a life without me now," he snapped back, realizing his argument was losing ground.

"A life?" she exclaimed and almost laughed. "My life is like looking over the edge of a bomb crater. Everything is gone but I can see how the pieces used to fit. I realized I can't cook now because you've been doing that for the last six months. I also know – why I started sleeping on the side of the bed nearest the door. I finally figured out why there were two soap trays in the shower. And I don't like waking up every morning alone – I know that's wrong."

Draco wasn't about to surrender so easily. "So why'd you turn down Hippocrates' cure. I thought you'd be excited about that. But you weren't. That had me going around the twist. Then I realized it was the memories of us you didn't want."

"Draco, that's not it, and we don't need Hippocrates."

"So what then? Are you getting them back on your own? Is that it?"

"_No_, I don't remember a damn thing..."

"Granger, this doesn't make a bit of sense," he said and pulled a mock face. "It's all you've talked about since the accident. And besides that, you've changed – over the last few weeks, you've changed."

"Can't you see what it is Draco? Can't you feel it? Are you that blind?" she asked and stepped closer while reaching for his hands.

"Blind – blind to what Hermione?"

"I'm falling in love with you."

He pulled another face. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm falling in love with you. I'm falling in love with Captain Britain, and Ace the action man, and Slim. And I don't need memories of the past or memories of how it happened before. I just know how I feel now," she said and shrugged. "And I don't want anything to ruin or spoil that."

He swallowed hard and almost choked to get the words out.

"You know I love you."

"I do," she said and her huge brown eyes began to swell. "I've been a real bitch and you wouldn't have stayed through all this if you didn't love me. But I had to know Draco. I had to know if you were for real, and at the time it felt like the only way."

"That hurt Granger. That really hurt."

She dipped and shook her head before looking up with huge brown eyes.

"Lets get back to last night. I'll go with you. I'll go to wherever you call home. That's why I wanted to find a new flat. We may not have much right now, and I know it'll be hard, but we have each other, and for now – I believe that's enough."

"You'll go with me then?"

She nodded quick little animated nods.

"Without the coupon book?" he asked, lightheartedly.

"Without a coupon book," she repeated.

She put her arms around his and hugged.

"Logic and memories," she said and shook her head. "They won't show me the way. I have to trust in my heart. Sometimes it's not much and sometimes it's not always right, but sometimes it's all we've got. And if our heart is big enough and strong enough then everything else can fall in behind it."

"You really believe that now?" he asked.

"I do."

There was a moment, a moment of silence then someone in the back opened a large freight door and a gust of wind blew through the shoppe and over the floor. Captain Britain's cape lifted majestically.

She looked up and their eyes connected for a delirious moment. The ensuing kiss was long and rekindling.

At this time, the half dozen boy's on the floor, who had been quiet for maybe the longest time in their life, suddenly all cheered and chimed in with catcalls and the like.

"Captain Britain, you de man," one little boy exclaimed.

As the couple gently parted, Draco looked at his watch. His shift was over.

"Let's go home then," he whispered in her ear.

"Yeah... where's this new home you've been talking about?"

"It'll be a surprise – you like surprises, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course – I married you didn't I?"

His right arm went out to hug the witch and they walked away, leaning one into the other. Suddenly the holiday music didn't sound so bad.

:

:

* * *

A/N: That's it - that's a wrap. The story ends well here, but there a few loose ends and an epilogue was always planned. I'm not completely sure how to spin it, Hopefully feedback and comments will help.

Sorry it didn't move as quickly as some wanted. I'm planning a commentary on story structure, on what works and what doesn't work so well, on fanfiction. This should be on my tumblr page in the near future.

Again, thanks for the comments and feedback and all the fav and follows - and most of all - thanks for reading.


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